by Stacey Lynn
This time, something propelled me. I blamed Angie. It’s Hudson. Said with all the awe of a little girl getting a pony for Christmas. I took the card gingerly from his fingers, careful not to touch him.
I felt something strange around him I wasn’t interested in exploring and it wasn’t fully hatred or doubt.
No. Somehow, I didn’t think they were out to screw me over. But it didn’t mean they didn’t have their own motives.
Nobody was one hundred percent good. People didn’t do something for nothing, even if that something was their own internal desire to feel good about themselves.
“I’ll think about it.”
“You’d make Dad real happy if you did more than that.”
I’d never made a dad happy and had no idea what it felt like, but a breeze brushed by and the hair on my arms raised.
“And you?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“I think you’re going to shake up shit that’s currently settled and it’s going to become the biggest mess I’ve ever cleaned up.”
“Well, again, your answers to my questions are about as clear as mud. But, thanks for your honesty?”
He grinned, shook his head. “At least talk to him about options. He’s had other people work part-time while being in school. Probably better pay than the diner, too.”
Options.
Hudson flung the word out like I was a woman who was used to having them.
I headed to the bus after Hudson had walked away, hell-bent on studying but knew it’d be futile.
Between their obvious wealth and Angie’s reaction… was he really the wealthiest guy in the state?… There was a shiny white card with midnight blue ink burning a hole in my pocket. I wanted to know. I needed to know. Since I’d been so used to David coming in, I’d made several assumptions about him. I was definitely right about him having money. His wife’s death explained the sad eyes I saw in both him and Hudson. But I hadn’t expected Hudson to practically bare his soul to me about how his family was raised, about his parents’ desires to take in kids who needed love and help.
Did it change my assumptions of them?
Yeah… admittedly, I was swayed to take them up on their offer for help knowing how good they truly seemed.
Yet now I had a new reason to resist.
Hudson.
With his dark eyes and well-shaved scruff that not only lined the hard cut of his jaw perfectly, but it also highlighted his full lips. Lips I’d stared at for way too long when he spoke about his family. Lips he’d licked once or twice that had sent a spark of interest to intimate parts of me.
I was walking up to the third floor of the ramshackle building I called a home and down the narrow hallway when a door opened at the other end.
Manny.
My spine straightened. I wasn’t close enough to my door to get in before I’d cross his path. I gripped my key tighter, sticking out between my fisted fingers. It wasn’t the best weapon, but it could be useful.
He leered at me in that slimy way of his and sauntered right up to me until I was forced to press my book bag hanging from my shoulders to the wall.
“Hey babe, plans for the night?”
“Yep.” I popped it from my lips, giving him my best bored expression.
“What? You think you’re too good for me?”
He was close. Too close to me.
If only I hadn’t skipped class after my conversation with Hudson. Stupid me for being so twisted up over this stranger, I walked home and daydreamed about his looks instead of remembering I had one goal in life: to take care of myself.
“No. I’m working.”
There was a time I vaguely remembered I would have smiled at attention, flipped my hair and probably giggled like an idiot. Not for this guy.
For this guy, I would have called Josh.
Josh wasn’t here anymore, though. A quick stab of pain speared my chest at the thought. Calling Josh was what had sent the downfall of my life in motion in the first place.
Manny had bad news written all over him. Pockmarks and yellowed teeth showed he probably wasn’t exactly sober. I’d seen women like this. Meth ate away at their brains and their skin. It made them itch and left them with scars, assuming they didn’t overdose. Which surprisingly, still happened when you were locked up.
“I’ll see you then, babe. You’ll come around, soon, won’t you?” He leaned in and I caught a whiff of his breath. Oniony. Like he’d just chomped on one like some people ate apples.
I hid my flinch and waited with my back to my door until he was down the stairs. I slid into my apartment, locked the door and threw a chair in front of it for extra protection. The locks were old and shitty, like everything else.
Roaches scattered as I flipped on the light switch and flung open the curtains.
My home was a hell I couldn’t wait to escape. Unless…. Probably pays more than the diner, too.
I kicked the thought right out of my head.
“No. They want something from you.”
But maybe they didn’t. I’d almost cried listening to Hudson talk about his dad, his family, and the way he reacted to talking about his mom.
She died. Seven years ago.
His pain was fresh as if her death was yesterday.
That, I understood.
Before I could stop myself, I opened up my laptop, hacked into a downstairs neighbor’s Wi-Fi thanks to the unsecured password, and pulled up Google.
“He’s the richest guy in Iowa,” Angie had said.
We’d have to see about that.
8
Hudson
“Can you come to my office for a second?”
Our financial manager on the western Des Moines project, Brandon Miller, answered immediately, “This again?”
“I can’t help it. I’m missing something. I have to be. There’s something about this project that’s giving me a sour taste.”
“You’re struggling over intuition?” he scoffed and quickly recovered. “I’ll be right there. Only because I need a favor from you.”
“Awesome.”
It was said sarcastically. Brandon was famous for demanding the most ridiculous favors from me. He’d done that since middle school. “I dare you to kiss her” in regard to my seventh-grade science teacher who had ass and tits at an age when boys were just beginning to notice both on girls.
I did, and got a lovely three-day suspension for it, along with a massive talking to from my parents at home. I never mentioned Brandon’s part in it, and I was pretty sure me not selling him out is what cemented our friendship. When we met, he was full of anger and attitude and while he’d let a lot of that go over the years, he’d mastered the art of smartassery.
His office was downstairs, so while I waited for him, I moved the blueprints and plans to my small conference table closer to the windows and sun and rolled them out. Maybe a different perspective would help my brain click with what I was struggling with. As if staring across the river in the general direction of the project would give me greater insight.
The finances made sense.
We had the new housing available for the current tenants in the buildings we were tearing down. Almost all had responded to our offers to move them to apartments in other buildings we’d built or renovated. We had storage units set aside for those who needed it as well. Once completed, the new apartment’s rent would be the same as what they were paying now, if not a little less. We wouldn’t have to worry about homes collapsing or fires from old and ruined electrical work and infestations from bugs and rodents.
In black and white, it all made complete sense to give the final approval so we could get moving quickly. Everything was ready, permits handled, city council on board. All we needed was my final before we broke ground.
So why was I hesitating?
A knock hit my doorframe and I didn’t look up, just waved Brandon in. “Come in. Walk me through this again.”
“It’s the tenth time in as many days.”
>
“Don’t give a shit.”
“Fine.”
I listened while he pulled up projections. Paced while he spoke of plans and materials, all of it well under budget in case of surprises, which always happened. I crossed my arms over my chest when he talked about the commercial buildings that made up the ground floor.
“Wait,” I said, and moved from where I’d been perched by the window to the mess he’d made on the table.
“What?”
“The businesses. What types?”
“Coffee shop. Small diner or restaurant. Market.”
“Fucking hell.” That was it. I swiped my hand across my mouth and pressed my hands to my hips.
The diner. Every time I hesitated on this it was because I thought of Lilly. Was that what this was all about? I heard the word diner and immediately thought of Lilly? There was no other explanation.
“What is it?”
“Nothing. Continue.” I flipped my hand in the direction of the papers. This had to be what was tripping me up. She hadn’t just taken up residence in my dad’s mind with his need to help her, she’d now invaded my own. I’d barely been able to focus on anything since I went to her campus yesterday to find her.
And thank God she didn’t press me on how I knew where she’d be.
Brandon gave me a look that said I had a screw loose and carried on. When he was done, he shot me a playful glare. “We done now? Because talking about this again made me need a drink.”
Nothing else stuck out. There was still a ball in my stomach, but it was manageable. My hesitations had to be about Lilly and the diner. It’s the only thing that made sense.
“You and me both.”
“Good. Want to go play eighteen and skip out on the rest of the day?”
“Was that the favor you wanted?” I had an easy day and could easily go. Maybe golf would relax me so I could once and for all kick Lilly out of my brain. She took up too much space.
“No. But I figured I’d butter you up by paying.”
I gave him a flat look. “We’re members. It doesn’t cost me shit to play.”
“Sweet.” He grinned that smart ass grin of his and slapped my shoulder. “Then you can pay for mine and that’s not my favor either.”
“Dick.”
“Yup. You in?”
What the hell.
It was Friday afternoon, and my focus was already shot.
Plus, Brandon was a rabid dog with a bone. He wouldn’t drop anything he wanted from me until he got it.
“All right. I’ll go and I’ll pay. But we’re having drinks at Dad’s later.”
“Wouldn’t miss time with David for the world. How’s he doing? I haven’t seen him much.”
“Ornery as hell.”
Brandon grinned. “So, the same then.”
“Pretty much. Let me get some things cleaned up here, let Stephanie know, and then we can take off.”
“Not interested.”
The jack hole waited until we were on the back nine, fourteenth hole, the farthest tee box from the clubhouse. He knew I wouldn’t leave his ass on the course and make him hike back. Although I was tempted.
“Come on. Jenna says she’s gorgeous and sweet. As soon as she ran into Harper and they got to talking, she thought about you.”
There was a foursome moving slow in front of us, still in the fairway so we couldn’t hit. We should have asked to pass them, or even better etiquette, they should have waved us on, but Brandon and I weren’t in any hurry.
At least I hadn’t been until he finally asked his favor. There was no way I was taking out one of Jenna’s friends, but since I was trapped, I humored him.
“What does she do?”
“Moved here for a job to manage the actuarial department at DDM Financial.”
“Sounds dreadfully dull.”
“She’s hot. And Jenna doesn’t have dull friends.”
“Not anymore, but she hasn’t seen her in what, six years?”
“Not since college, but that doesn’t mean anything and what’s your hesitation on going on a date with a hot chick? I’m not asking you to marry her. I’m suggesting you take her out for drinks, maybe a little something after.”
I went out with my friend and his fiancée occasionally. With her storytelling abilities, one-hour dinners could easily turn into three, along with several bottles of wine. She was a riot, but getting stuck with a woman I already knew I wouldn’t be interested in for that long sounded painful.
“You haven’t dated much lately, not since—”
“Enough.” I knew exactly why I hadn’t dated. Brandon only knew the half of it but the best way to ruin my mood was Brandon bringing it up.
The group in front of us moved toward the green, finally far enough away where we could hit. Brandon pushed the ball and tee into the ground and pointed his driver at me. “Just think you need to get out there so you don’t end up a grumpy old man.”
“I’ve always been grumpy.”
“No. You’ve always been serious, maybe stoic. It’s only the last year you’ve become increasingly grumpy. And spending too much damn time alone.”
He dropped the club, turned to the fairway. After a practice swing, he let it rip and his ball sailed two hundred and fifty yards straight down the middle.
“Nice hit.”
“So, drinks?”
“Fine. Drinks, and I’ll contact her myself. And I’m only doing it because I love Jenna.” He was right. I was under no illusions of why the last year made me grumpy. Since I was determined to kick her out of my head for good, I didn’t think of her.
“Not me?”
“No. You’re a pain in my ass.”
“But still your best friend.”
“Always, dickface.”
I swung, almost matched his shot perfectly. We hopped back into the cart where we opened a beer from the cooler we’d purchased before hitting the course and finished the round.
An hour later because of the group in front of us moving like molasses, we smelled like grass and sweat and dirt, he’d given me Harper’s phone number, and we were pulling up to my dad’s house.
Dad was grilling when we walked into my childhood home. Photos placed on every surface always made my heart hurt. Our family hadn’t been traditional by any means and Mom and Dad never wasted an opportunity to snap a memory. Now when I walked in, every picture that held my mom or Melissa’s smiling faces brought back all the bad memories.
The accident. The diagnosis. The months of someone I loved smelling like medicine while they lost their hair.
The burials.
The grief.
The mess I was left to fix.
As I always did when I walked in, I kicked off my shoes, dropped my keys onto the table, and pressed two fingers to my lips before touching the glass covering my mom’s beautiful face.
Brandon headed straight for the fridge and another beer, grabbing one for me before we met Dad outside on the deck.
“Great day, boys,” he said, not bothering to turn toward us at the sound of the glass door opening. “How’d you shoot?”
“Decent,” I said, and brought the beer to my mouth.
Brandon, the cocky jerk he always was, laughed. “I outshot him by four.”
Dad turned and smiled at us over his shoulder. “Good job, son.”
Every time Dad called him that, Brandon turned sheepish. It amazed me, still, how that could be and yet, I hadn’t had the start in life Brandon did.
“Please. I let him win because he still cries and needs his blankie when he loses.”
“You dick.” Brandon shoved me, laughing harder. “That was years ago.”
“Like four.”
“Fourteen.”
“Same difference. You still act like a little kid.”
“Can someone grab me the steaks from inside?” Dad totally ignored our antics and name calling as always.
I didn’t grow up with a lot of rules. Mostly because there were always too many
kids coming and going from so many variety of situations it was hard to tailor them. Instead, my parents taught us respect. To take care of what was ours so we had pride in what we had and to always… always try to be kind. Swearing, curfews, things like that were always overlooked.
Brandon and I had been giving each other shit since I was thirteen and he was twelve. For sixteen years he’d been my best friend.
“I’ll get it,” I told Dad.
“Grab me some more drinks!” Brandon shouted, high on his rare golfing win against me and probably life.
I threw up my middle finger as I walked away. “Say please!”
All I heard was his laughter.
We hung on the deck while Dad grilled. Occasionally, he looked like he had something to say but didn’t. Brandon drank his weight in beer and whiskey while I stopped after a few.
Later, after we cleaned up and Brandon called Jenna to come get his sorry drunk ass, Dad set down his glass and rolled his lips together.
I knew Dad’s looks. Hell, I’d stolen some of his own myself, so I knew when he studied his glass of whiskey like it held all of the answers to life’s problems, I was in for it.
“You saw her again.”
“She has a way of getting under your skin,” I admitted. “How’d you know?”
“Went to Judith’s last night. She said if I brought up working for us she’d kick me out.”
I laughed. She was feisty. I admired her strength. Everything she’d survived would crush most people. I also knew because I grew up seeing it so often in others, her hardness was a shield.
It didn’t explain why I was so damn intent on trying to strip it off her though, figure out who she was beneath the armor.
“I went to her campus yesterday. Told her we knew where she’d been.”
His eyes flashed with worry. “Hud—”
“Not that. I didn’t tell her more, just that you had connections. But I thought it might help if she knew what kind of guy you were. I told her about all your other kids. I figured the rest is your story.”
He laughed at my all your other kids comment. Some we still kept in contact with. Some were emergency placements for a night or two before relatives could be contacted. Some aged out and left, turned their back on the fact Mom and Dad would always be there to help. Some, like Brandon, never left, although he was the only one my parent’s officially adopted.