Thank God.
“I can’t believe you’re going to be a nanny for a family in Hawaii,” Libby says. “I didn’t even know you liked kids.”
“Eh, I don’t. Not really.” I shrug under the blanket. “But it’s a favor to Mr. Kapowski to help his daughter. They’ll pay me, and it just happens to be in Hawaii. I can like kids for that.”
She laughs.
“You know,” I say, my body stilling, “I really think Mr. Kapowski knew things weren’t going to end well with Chuck.”
The mood changes in an instant. I can almost hear Libby get angry.
“Why didn’t you tell me what was happening with your landlord?” she asks.
“Because there was nothing to tell you, Lib. He was just an asshat and made things as terrible, as uncomfortable as he could. He never physically did anything.”
She pauses. “Until he …”
Her voice falls because she doesn’t want to say it.
But I will. “Until he insinuated that I could pay my increased rent with my vagina.”
My skin crawls as the blood beneath it boils. The scent of his breath—stale coffee and sardines—is forever imprinted in my mind.
Quietly gagging, I rip the blanket off me.
My brain takes the opportunity to do what I’ve been struggling hard not to do—replay the event of the last month. It comes at me in vivid shots of memory.
Chuck’s smarmy grin when I opened the door. The way he positioned his body so I couldn’t shut him out. His notice that the rent was increasing and my shock and horror at that fact, considering I was already overpaying for the opportunity to live in one of the dankest apartments in Columbus.
The way his eyes lit up. The scent of sardines. His words, “Then pay with your pussy, pretty lady,” followed by the sound of wood splitting as his fist slammed into the door to hold it open.
Shouting. Police sirens triggered by the neighbors. Me looking like the aggressor as I held a baseball bat, poised to swing.
I close my eyes and try to block it all out.
“Will anything happen to him?” Libby asks.
“They told me that they’ll watch him, but that it’s really a he said versus she said kind of thing. So what do you do? He didn’t touch me.” I scowl and open my eyes. “Lucky him.”
“Yeah, lucky him. He hasn’t seen this bestie pissed off.”
I can’t help but laugh at the idea of Libby’s sweet face angry enough to be forbidding.
“I’m out of that apartment now,” I say. “I’m away from Shawn and his new fiancée. I won’t accidentally run into them at the grocery store again.”
Despite the fact I’m happy to be free of Shawn too, my insides squirm at that memory. “Why are you always just standing around in my way, Jaxi? I should’ve left your ass with your mom.”
“Every door that closes has an equal and opposite door that opens,” Libby says. “Or … something like that.”
“I think that’s an old wives’ tale mixed with one of Newton’s laws.”
“Hey, it works.”
“It does indeed.” I get to my feet and stretch my arms overhead. “If you want me to do anything around here, let me know. I have time on my hands.”
“Just don’t touch my plants and don’t mess with Ted’s office. I know you wouldn’t anyway, but just keep the door shut. He’s so fussy about it.”
My spirits begin to sink. “I hope me being here doesn’t make Ted mad.”
“It doesn’t.” She sighs. “And if he does have a problem, it’s because he’s a jerk and really has nothing to do with you.”
“Don’t say that, Libby.”
“Why? If he has a problem with me helping a family member—and a friend, then that’s jerkish behavior, and I’m not going to make excuses for jerkish behavior.” She sucks in a breath. “I love him, and I respect his wishes. But this isn’t even a vacation that will screw with his day. You need a place to stay for a week, and he’s not even there. He can deal.”
My heart swells. I’m so grateful for her. Still, we both know that I’m going to go out of my way to make sure this doesn’t impact Ted—especially when their marriage seems to be stronger than ever.
I stretch again and walk over to the window. I slip my finger between the blinds and part them.
A security light over Libby’s garage glows bright, illuminating half of the yard between her house and Boone’s. His house looms in the shadows. The only light comes from a room on the front corner with a window facing me.
My breathing gets shallow as I watch a shadow move behind the curtain.
“I’ve avoided bringing it up,” Libby says, “but I think I warmed you up enough.”
I brace myself because I know where this is going.
“How in the heck did you break into Boone’s house and not mine?” she asks with a hearty laugh.
I rub a hand down my face. “Look, the GPS stopped at the entrance of the cul-de-sac, and I didn’t see house numbers. And you all use those fancy mailboxes that are in a big block at the same place, so I had nothing to go off.”
“I can actually see how you mixed it up,” she admits. “I just find it hysterical.”
“It’s only hysterical because it ended well.”
“I wouldn’t be laughing if it hadn’t.” She pauses, getting herself together. “Only you, Jaxi. Only you.”
I plop on the couch again. “Only me.”
“You’re lucky it was Boone’s house and not the Keaton’s on the other side of us. They aren’t as …”
Handsome. Funny. Forgiving.
“Helpful.” Her tone is laced with amusement. “Boone sent me a text and said that he got a locksmith to open my door for you.”
“He did. I told him I wanted to pay him back, but the guy was working for his brother. Building a recording studio,” I say, the detail coming back to me. “Who are these people, Lib? Who needs a recording studio?”
Libby’s laughter is full and loud. My brows tug together as I try to figure out what’s so funny about that question.
“What?” I ask. “People don’t just have recording studios at their house, do they? If that’s a thing, I’ve definitely been living the wrong life.”
“Nope. Normal people don’t have them. But Kelvin McCoy does. You know, the country music star.”
She just tosses that out there for me to catch and then goes silent. Maybe she knew I’d need a minute for that to sink in.
A barrage of information bolts through my mind.
Of course, I know who Kelvin McCoy is. He’s on half of the rag magazines next to the cash register at every store in America. I also know he’s from Savannah because Libby mentioned it when she saw him perform one summer. I never paid much attention because what do I care?
I care a little more right now.
“You’re telling me that the man who lives beside you is Kelvin McCoy’s brother?” I yelp.
She giggles.
“What are the freaking odds?” I ask, placing my palm against my forehead. “I mean, go big or go home, right? Well, I certainly went big.”
“You went the biggest, my friend.”
I laugh, but it’s more out of pity for myself than humor.
“So, yeah, don’t worry about paying him back,” she teases. “I think he can afford it.”
“Obviously, he can. But that doesn’t mean he should have to.”
A chair slides against the ground. “I’m being honest when I tell you this, okay?”
“Okay …”
“He’ll be offended if you take money over there. He’s always doing little things for us, and I used to scramble to pay him back, but I learned you can’t with him. It’s not tit-for-tat. He’s genuinely a nice person. It’s … kind of odd, almost. You’d expect someone like him to be more standoffish.”
I look across the yard again with my suspicions about Boone Mason confirmed. He is a nice person.
There’s something great about that.
“
So, what do I do? Just forget it?” I ask. “Just forget that he did something nice for me because there’s never going to be anything I can do for him because I’m too poor to repay the favor? I just have to suck it up?”
“Was that an innuendo or …?”
I laugh.
“Jax,” she says carefully, “not everything someone does for you is to get something back.”
I make a face. “Eh …”
She sighs. “I’m back to the room now so I need to go. Just stop worrying about everything and relax, okay? New life, new vibe. Breathe that in.”
“Okay.”
The click of a door lock zips through the phone. “Speaking of breathing, if this man doesn’t get up and take me out …”
I smile. “He will. I bet he’s good and rested by now.”
“He better be. Talk to you later, Jaxi.”
“Bye, Lib. Thanks again for everything.”
The call ends.
I press the phone to my chest and look at Boone’s house.
I shouldn’t be surprised that this happened. This is how my life works.
At least it was a hot bachelor and not a slimy Chuck kind of dude.
With a final glance, I shrug and head to the oversized tub in the guest bathroom that’s called my name since I saw it.
I push all things Boone and Chuck and my ex-fiancé Shawn out of my mind and refocus on things that matter. For the first time in my life, I have a chance to start fresh. To carve out a life of my own. A clean—clutter-free and simple—slate.
Selling or giving away everything apart from the contents of my backpack should feel terrifying. The books I read about starting over advise you to prepare yourself for moments of fear. I haven’t had that reaction. Maybe it’s because I’ve learned something really important about myself.
I don’t need things.
A good toothbrush, a few changes of clothes, and as many books as I can carry, and I’m good. For the most part, anyway.
This is my time to prove to myself that I can stand on my own two feet.
I’m not about to get all screwed up.
Again.
Five
Boone
“What do you think, Boone?” My eldest brother, Holt, looks at me from across the conference table. “Do you think the Banner property will work, or should we keep looking?”
A coffee pot sits behind him, and all I can think is that the steam looks like it’s coming from his head. And, truth be told, if he knew what I was thinking, there would be heat rising from his head.
I’m tempted to take a picture and text it to Coy and see if he agrees. He’d understand my need for finding things to keep me entertained. He’s not big into business meetings or property acquisition. He doesn’t think that spreadsheets are porn like the rest of them either. Holt, Oliver, and Wade live and breathe the company our grandfather started. I, on the other hand, don’t.
“I think …” I begin, sitting back in my chair and stretching my legs out under the table, “that I’m ready to call it a day.”
Oliver rests his head in his hands.
Wade stares at me like he’s unsure how we’re related.
The aforementioned steam continues to rise above Holt’s head.
“It’s ten in the morning, Boone,” Holt says as if somehow I’m not aware of that.
“I know. You made me show up at six this morning for no apparent reason, and I’ve watched every single minute pass on the clock just above the coffee pot behind you.”
Oliver stands, his chair rolling quietly across the carpeted floor. “And I thought we were making progress with him.”
I love when they talk about me in pronouns.
I roll my eyes and look at the ceiling. “You don’t expect me to want to be here. Can we stop acting like anyone is surprised by this information?”
Wade raises his coffee cup to his mouth. “I’m not surprised. Quite frankly, I’m more surprised every day that I come to this office and find you here.”
My arms fold over my chest as I look at Wade. “You act like I’m never here. I’m here every single day.” My head whips to Oliver. “Or I have been since Coy moved back to town, and you told me how much you guys needed me.”
“I never said that,” Oliver deadpans.
“Nah, you did. You practically begged me. It was one of the best days of my life.”
Holt laughs. “Did you beg him, Ollie?”
“I don’t beg anyone for anything.” Oliver levels his gaze with mine. “And I certainly did not beg my little brother to come to work like the adult he is.”
“Here we go,” Wade mutters, shaking his head.
I grin at Oliver.
Words are unnecessary at this point in the conversation. We both know what I’m about to say. We both also know that I’m right, and there’s nothing he can do about it because I did, in fact, close the biggest deal in our family’s company’s history.
Me.
Not Holt. Not Oliver. Not Wade or Coy.
Me.
Holt kind of loves it because he ultimately looks good with any success in the family business. Wade doesn’t care. He gets sick of me bringing it up, for sure, but Wade is beyond mere mortal things like pissing contests. He’s above that, off in Wade’s world doing Wade things, and Coy has Grammys, so he beats us all without even competing.
But Oliver? It drives him nuts.
“Maybe you’re right,” I tell him, letting my eyes widen for the briefest second. “It wouldn’t make much sense for you to want me here, considering I’m so much better at your job than you without even trying.”
Oliver takes a long, slow drink of coffee before setting the cup down with a thud. Instead of firing back with a retort, he picks up his phone.
“Was it that easy?” I ask. “Wow, Oliver. Did I finally break you?”
The corner of his lip turns up. “Hardly. I got sidetracked by this text from Anjelica. She said to have you call her.”
Holt bursts out laughing. Even Wade cackles a little.
I have to pick my jaw up off the table.
Anjelica Grace is Coy’s new agent. She’s a ball of fire with a sprinkling of explosives mixed in for fun and she likes nothing more than getting shit done.
To sum it up, she’s the antithesis of me.
And, because Holt either has a dark sense of humor or Oliver got his ear, Holt told Anjelica that I would be the one to go to if she had any questions about how our family business works or needed something handled.
It’s been a delightful few months.
I force a swallow. “You don’t play fair.”
Oliver grins, mirroring the one I gave him just a few moments ago. “I’ll tell her you’ll call her as soon as we’re done.”
“Go ahead and lie to her,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t give a shit. I have … things to do. Right, Holt?”
I look at my eldest brother, my eyes pleading. It only makes Holt start laughing again.
“Come on, Holt,” I beg. “I’ll do anything. Just don’t make me talk to Anjelica. She’s mean.”
Wade sighs as he gets up to refill his coffee cup. “Okay. Enough. I don’t have all day to waste. What are we doing with the Banner property? Is it a go or not?”
“Knowing very little about the Banner property other than what we’ve said here today because I’ve been neck-deep in the label shit,” Oliver says, folding his hands in front of him, “I think we should keep looking. It’s not wide enough to do anything with, and zoning in that area is a nightmare.”
Oh, Ollie.
I sigh.
I don’t want to start sharing my opinion with my brothers because then they’ll want to discuss it. They’ll expect me to contribute. Every time I do this, I think they see potential in me, and I don’t want that.
Then again, if I don’t share my opinion, Holt is likely to listen to Oliver. And Oliver is wrong.
“Zoning is a nightmare,” I say, still trying to talk myself out of opening my mou
th, “but there are two things to consider.”
“Two things? Please share with the class,” Wade says, sitting back down.
I look at him. “First, the director of building and zoning is retiring—or so says Bill Hendershott. We had lunch last week while you guys were golfing with Gramps.”
Oliver’s brows lift. Holt nods appreciatively. Wade looks impressed.
“What were you doing having lunch with Hendershott?” Oliver asks.
“I played basketball with his son, Mikey, back in high school. We keep in touch a little, mostly on social media. Anyway, Mikey was in town, and they wanted to have lunch and catch up, so I did. You’re welcome.”
Wade tries to hide his chuckle.
“The likely replacement seems to be Zaraton, and she eats out of our, meaning my, hand. Second,” I say, trying to get this over with as quickly as possible, “the Banner area may not be wide enough right now, but it will be.”
My brothers stare at me silently.
I straighten the collar of my shirt. While I may not love business stuff and I avoid getting involved, the moment when I impress them is usually pretty great. I can’t lie.
This is no exception.
“The three hundred acres or so to the east of the Banner property—the one held by the Greyshell Trust—they have a problem with access,” I say. “Right now, they access it through the Banner parcels, but that will be shut down as soon as someone buys it and nixes the permission. Greyshell knows that. They’re landlocked on all other sides, and from what I hear, they’ve pissed everyone else off with the diplomacy of a wounded badger, and no one will give them a right-of-way.”
Wade narrows his eyes. “You’re missing something. They’re legally entitled to access. Even if they can’t access it through the Banner parcel, the county will have to ensure they can get to it.”
“Yes, you’re right,” I admit. “They have legal rights to access the property, but they do not have a legal right to run dirt bikes and four-wheelers through there, which is what they’re doing. It’ll cause a bunch of problems, and they know it.”
Oliver sits back down. “So, what are you saying, Boone?”
“I’m saying that if you send the right emissary to whoever controls Greyshell, that maybe they’ll sell to you too.” I sit back in my chair. “It won’t be cheap, but think of all you could do with Banner and the three hundred beside it. That area hasn’t been incorporated yet—meaning the price is as low as it’s going to get. The city is encroaching, which we know. I would think it would be better to get Banner and Greyshell than just Banner. And I think that getting both of them is very much worth our time.” I smile at them. “But what do I know? You’re surprised I’m even here.”
Reckless (The Mason Family Series Book 3) Page 4