by Hamel, B. B.
“Okay,” I say like this is a dream.
She smiles and I change back into my normal clothes. She has the sales associate wrap everything and she pays without me even seeing it happen. When we’re done, I follow her around for the rest of the afternoon as she buys expensive shoes and handbags for herself, and a few gifts for her children, her children’s spouses, and her husband.
When we’re done, we find the car and get back inside. The trunk is laden with bags but she’s smiling like she just accomplished some great task.
“Can I ask you something?”
She shrugs. “Why not? I’ve already been nostalgic and maudlin enough, might as well keep it going.”
I brush that off and move on. “Why don’t you have a more normal relationship with Shaun? I think he’d like it.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. “Shaun is smart,” she says. “He’s very, very smart. But he’s not motivated and he’s not ruthless. I’m afraid you need both of those qualities to run the family.”
“Is he going to run it?”
“Out here, he will. That’s the plan, at least. All West Coast business will be his. I need him to sharpen up, Klara. I wonder if you can help him do that.”
“I don’t know,” I admit.
“Try, dear.”
“I don’t think I need to. I’ve already seen what he’s capable of.”
“I’m sure. But maybe he needs just one more nudge in the right direction.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. He’s a good man, Sylvia.”
She smiles at me. “You’re absolutely right, dear.”
We don’t talk for the rest of the ride. I’m not sure what game she’s playing or what she means, but I get the sense that she just talked circles around me and I have no clue what she did.
When we arrive back at his house, she doesn’t get out of the car. “Tell him I said sorry,” she says. “But I won’t be seeing him again on this trip.”
“But why not? You’re having surgery. Shouldn’t he be involved?”
“Oh, no, dear. That would be unseemly.” She smiles at me. “Good luck.” She shuts the door and the car drives off.
I watch it go and feel at a loss.
But Shaun comes out of the house. “Hey,” he says. “You let her buy you something.”
I hold up the Balenciaga bag. “She made me.”
He laughs. “She loves doing that. Gives her a sense of power. But she would’ve liked it if you denied her too.”
“I’m weak.”
“No, you’re not.”
I put the bag down and walk to him. I get on my toes and kiss his lips before reaching up and running my fingers through his hair. His strong arms wrap around me and he kisses me back. Slowly, we break off, and he tilts his head.
“What’s that for?”
“Nothing,” I say. “Your mother is… interesting.”
“Yeah? Tell me all about it.”
“Maybe another time. I’m beat. Call me a car.”
He laughs. “Come on.”
“Nope.”
He grabs me by the hips and pulls me into the house. I laugh as he kisses me and pushes me up against a wall. His lips linger on mine and I feel so good, so happy, even if my strange afternoon keeps swirling through my mind.
“You can do whatever you want to me,” I whisper, “but I’ll never talk.”
“I don’t need you to talk,” he says, and kisses me hard, which is probably for the best.
I’m not in the mood to do anything but listen, anyway.
18
Shaun
I get up early the next day, shower, and linger in the bathroom doorway, looking at Klara’s beautiful naked body sprawled on my bed. I walk over and kiss her neck then her breasts. She looks at me and groans. “Early,” she grumbles.
“Sorry. I have to go out. You can sleep as late as you want and stay as long as you want. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“Okay,” she mumbles. “Have fun, bye.”
I laugh and get dressed. When I’m finished, I make some coffee, pour it into a travel mug, and get in my car.
I make a call on the way over. There’s no answer, but I didn’t expect one this early in the morning. I drive across town and head into a little neighborhood. It’s not super trendy or super nice, but each house is probably worth ten times what it was twenty or thirty years ago. I park out in front of a small light blue bungalow and get out.
I pound on the door and ring the bell. I have to knock and ring over and over until I hear something crash and someone curse inside. “Open up,” I call out. “I know you’re in there.”
“Fuck.” Aldo Funk pulls open the door. He squints at me, his hair a mess. He’s wearing a white tank top and a blue kimono open in the front. His boxers are ratty and were probably red at one point, but look pinker now. “The hell are you doing here?”
“Open up,” I say.
He shakes his head. “Fuck that. It’s like…”
“It’s nine in the morning. Open the door, Aldo, before I open it myself.”
“Fine, shit, Jesus, don’t be such a dick.” He opens it up and steps aside. I walk into his home and look around, surprised at how tastefully decorated it is. The style is mid-century, and most things look like they’re originals.
“It’s too early,” he grumbles as he walks past me and into his kitchen.
I follow and sit down at his table. He busies himself making coffee. “You want some?” he asks.
“No, I’m good.”
“Good,” he grunts.
When he’s finished, he turns and looks at me, steaming mug in his hand.
“Okay,” he says. “Why the hell are you here this early, Shaun?”
“I figured this would be the only time you’ll be totally sober today.” He glares at me but doesn’t deny it. “We need to talk.”
“About what?” he asks.
“Your little contest.”
He grins at me. “Oh, yeah. I seriously can’t believe you guys tied. I really thought my daughter would kick your ass at that memory game.”
“And I can’t believe you didn’t have backup plan.”
He shrugs. “What can I say? I love a good twist.”
“Here’s a twist for you then: I quit.”
He frowns at me, sips his coffee, then shakes his head. “No.”
“Excuse me?”
“No,” he says. “You’re not quitting. This next challenge is going to be awful. I’ve been working hard on it and you’re absolutely not going to quit.”
“Aldo. This has gone far enough.”
He laughs. “What are you talking about? How can you not love this?”
“Love this? You’ve been putting us through demeaning, degrading torture for your own amusement. No, Aldo. I don’t love it.”
“Please.” He walks over and sits across from me. “You got my fucking daughter pregnant. You deserve it.”
I lean back in my chair and stare at him, shocked into silence.
He grunts and laughs. “You think I didn’t know?”
“I didn’t… she told you?”
He shrugs. “Found the pregnancy test in her fucking work trashcan. Yes, I went through her trash, and it was to find a bottle of rum she took from me, which I did find too, thanks very much. I thought you might be the father, but wasn’t sure. I appreciate you confirming that.”
I clench my jaw. “Okay, asshole. But it doesn't change a thing.”
“Oh, yes, it does.” He leans toward me. “You’re a motherfucking Lofthouse. You can’t handle a scandal. What happens when word about your little illicit lovechild gets around town?”
I stare at him. “You’d do that to your own daughter just to spite me?”
He waves his hand like he’s swatting away flies. “Oh, come on. She won’t care. She’s nothing, a nobody. You’re something, though, and you’ll care a great deal.”
“Holy shit,” I say softly. “I thought you were an asshole because
of the drinking. I didn’t realize you were just a fucking asshole.”
He laughs. “Say what you want, but you’re not quitting.”
“Give her the company. I’ll still pay you, but in private, so she doesn’t have to know about it.”
“No,” he says. “I’m serious, I put a lot of time into this next challenge and I really want to see who wins it all.”
“What is the matter with you?” I growl, unable to help myself. “This is your daughter.”
“I know,” he says, his face falling into something more serious and contemplative. “She’s a smart girl, works hard, came up with the Divas idea all on her own. I think she’ll go far in this business.”
“Why not give her the company then?”
“Because fuck her,” he says, tilting his head. “That’s why. And fuck you, too. You think you can just come in here and buy me off?”
“I’m trying to make sure everyone gets what they want,” I say.
“Klara wants to take what I built, right? And I should just, what, give it to her?”
“She’s your daughter, Aldo. Pass something on to the next generation. Leave a legacy.”
“Fuck a legacy.” He laughs, shaking his head. “I’ve been alive long enough to know that once you’re dead, you’re dead. Nobody gives a fuck about you anymore. Unless you’re some president or amazing hero, you end up in the dirt, forgotten like everyone else. While I’m still alive, I want to live, damn you, and I’m not about to give up the one asset I have to my daughter just because she fucking wants it.”
I stand up. I can’t help myself. This man is driving me insane. I’ve never met someone so self-centered, so egotistical, so fucking annoying in my entire life. He smirks at me and grabs a bottle of whiskey from a cabinet.
“Drink?” he asks.
“Sell me the company. I’ll give it to Klara. You can go retire on a private island.”
“Oh? You’re offering that kind of money now?”
“Name your price.”
“My price is you compete in my challenge.” He pours a measure of whiskey in his coffee cup, frowns, pours some more. “That’s my price.”
“You can’t have it.”
“Then too bad.” He turns back to me with a grin. “Never should’ve gotten involved, Shaun. You think you can do whatever you want just because your name is Lofthouse, don’t you? Fuck my daughter, be a total dick, fine, whatever, but you can never—”
I don’t let him finish his sentence.
I can’t take it anymore.
I step up to him and slam my fist into his face. His head cracks back and he staggers away from me, coffee spilling all over his fake-ass kimono.
“Oh, shit,” he gasps, looking up at me with wide eyes. His lip is split and a bit of blood drips down his chin. “Why did you do that?”
“Because you’re a piece of shit and you deserved it.” I stare at him, breathing hard, but I know I have to go. If I let this go on any more, it’ll only get worse.
I turn away from him and leave the kitchen.
“You better compete!” he calls after me. “You think that’s the first time I’ve been hit? You better compete!”
I leave his house, rage flowing through me. I get in my car and drive back home.
I want to shout and break things. I want to go back there and beat her father senseless.
But fortunately, there’s nothing like LA traffic to calm the nerves. I put on some music and try to force that bastard’s face from my mind.
When I get home, I find Klara sitting in my kitchen, wearing one of my old t-shirts and a pair of running shorts. Even in my baggy clothes, she looks gorgeous. She smiles and sips some coffee. “Hey,” she says.
“Hey.” I walk over and pour myself a mug. “I’m glad you’re still here.”
“Where’d you go so early?”
“Just ran an errand,” I say, not exactly a lie. I don’t want to tell her that I just saw her father. I’m afraid she’ll get the wrong idea. “Listen, I’ve been thinking. You should go ahead with your plan. You know, to buy your dad out.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Make your offer. I’m afraid he’ll say no, but make it anyway. Let him know you’re serious and looking to take this on all on your own.”
“Okay,” she says, and grins at me. “I was gonna do that anyway but I’m glad you’re on board.”
I laugh and kiss her neck. “Now you’d better get going,” I say.
“Why?” she asks.
“Because if you stay, I’m afraid we won’t get anything done today.”
She gives me a little grin and tilts her head back. “Maybe that’s my intention all along.”
I let out a little chuckle and kiss her neck, followed by her ear, followed by her delicious lips.
“Okay then,” I whisper. “We can get something done tomorrow then. Today, you’re all mine, every single inch of you.”
“Take it all,” she whispers back.
And I do.
19
Klara
I find my father in his office in a strangely sober mood for once. He has a cup of coffee next to him, and although it smells like whiskey, he’s not slurring his words or otherwise visibly intoxicated.
“You busy?” I ask him, lingering in the doorway.
He shakes his head. “Not too busy for you.”
I smile and walk into the room, shutting the door behind me. He sighs and stretches.
“What are you up to?”
“Going over expense reports,” he says. “Doing the money.”
“Ah, I should’ve known. That’s your favorite.”
He grins at me. “It’s the only way I’ve kept alive all these years. Got to be active in your own money or else it can all disappear.”
I sit down across from him. Say what you will about my father, and I’ve said it all, but he is truly good with the books in this company. He tracks spending and income closely and calculates return, revenue, profit, all that almost every day. It’s his favorite pastime, aside from drinking and getting high, of course.
“I want to talk,” I say. “About the company.”
“Now’s a good time, I guess,” he said, smiling. “I came up with a new challenge for you and Shaun. I’m not supposed to tell you but I really, really want to.”
“Listen, Dad. This is better.” I open up the folder I have tucked under my arm and hold it out to him.
He frowns and takes it. He reads it over and his face gets serious by the time he reaches the end. He looks up and tilts his head. “Is this for real?” he asks.
“For real,” I confirm. “I believe it matches Shaun’s offer, plus a little bit extra for you in particular.”
He nods slowly. “It’s a very generous offer, Klara. Where did you get all this?”
“I held some meetings,” I say. “I found some investors willing to go in with me.”
He winces. “You did what?”
“Listen, Dad, I know you don’t really want to sell. You’ve made that pretty obvious. I mean this whole contest thing has been a little… absurd. I know you’re doing it for fun and you have no intentions of ever selling to Shaun. I think you plan on staying the head of this company until the day you die.”
“I’ve said as much,” he grumbles.
“But this is your chance. You can cash out and get rich. You can do whatever the hell you want with all your money. Go live in Europe, buy a mansion in the hills, do whatever. You can finally have all the cash you want.”
“Won’t have any books to go over,” he says.
“Start a new company, and you’ll have plenty of books. Or just start investing some of your money for fun. Dad, with this kind of cash, your options will be limitless.”
He watches me for a long moment. In his expression, I think I see the father I used to know, before the drinking and the drugs and the world ground him down into what he’s become. I want to think my father is still in there, the man I grew up idolizing and lovin
g.
I certainly haven’t seen that man in a long time.
“You found investors,” he says. “You went and you met with people in the industry.”
“I did,” I say. “Some of them weren’t keen, but the ones that signed on are excited. Their names are in the terms sheet, if you want to see who I’ll be working with. They’ll be the board and I’ll be the head of the company.”
“You’ll answer to them then.”
“Not entirely. We’ll structure it so that I have slightly more power than they do, but they’ll be able to adjust as they see fit. I think it’ll be a good thing, actually. I’ll have a little structure to work within.”
He nods and closes his eyes. “I wish you hadn’t done this.”
“Why?” I ask, surprised. “Dad, it’s so much money. You can retire and be happy.”
“I don’t want to retire.” He opens his eyes. “When did I get so old?”
“You’re not old. You’re just… you’re at that age, you know?”
He grunts and shakes his head. For the first time, I see him for what he is now: an old man afraid of his age, afraid of becoming irrelevant. No wonder he doesn’t want to sell this company. This is the last vestige of his youth he has left.
“I’m embarrassed,” he says. “If I’m honest with you. I’m embarrassed that my daughter went behind my back to find investors in my company. Do you know how that makes me look?”
“Dad—”
“No, Klara. You listen to me.” He leans forward. “I’m not selling you the company. I’m not selling Shaun the company, either. I’m tired of this whole game now. I’m sick of the way you two have been fighting over this company like I’m some corpse already.”
“That’s not what we’re doing,” I say softly.
“Oh, yes, it is. You’ve been trying to force me out from the start.”
“Dad, you know it’s time. You’re drunk and high half the time. The only reason this place is still open is because of me. Divas was my project and without me, it’ll fall apart. If you want this company to keep going, you need to step aside and let someone competent and sober run the place.”