A Good Time Page 2

  “That’s why I hired you.” He pointed at the newspaper. “I helped a friend, so I don’t regret it, but I am sorry it threw a wrench into your plan.”

  “And Ashley?”

  “Has moved on down the list of Chicago’s most eligible bachelors. No hard feelings.”

  Kendra rolled her eyes. “Are there ever? I have a feeling you con these women into thinking they’ve left you brokenhearted.”

  He gave her a half shrug. “It’s a gift.” A skill he’d nurtured after the one and only time he’d fallen in love had ended in a spectacular fiasco.

  She turned and went back to the desk. “Any luck finding a house so you can get rid of the bachelor pad?”

  “No.” Thoughts drifted to Indy and her bare legs.

  “You know it’s an integral part of the plan.”

  He nodded and returned to his chair. “The house will be a bachelor pad, too, since I won’t be getting married.”

  She shook her head at him.

  Waving the papers, she headed to the door. “I’m going to see what I can do about this.”

  Kendra was one of the best PR people he knew, but she was a pain in the ass. He’d listen to her, though, because she understood his goal.

  He’d been working toward the creation of this foundation for years. Helping troubled teens gave him a purpose. If he could pass on his knowledge and skills, it could change their lives. He was finally in a position to make it happen.

  As long as he didn’t let his dick screw it up.

  He looked over the notes he’d taken on each of the houses he’d visited with Indy. By pinpointing why they weren’t the right ones, he should be able to find what would make it right.

  He wanted the O’Leary house on a bigger scale. Ryan O’Leary had been his best friend since first grade when he’d punched Ryan in the nose. He’d spent more time at the O’Leary house than he had at home.

  At the O’Leary’s, loneliness was impossible. Six kids, two parents, and however many friends filled the house to bursting. They ate dinner together. Fought over the TV together. Shared victories and suffered defeats together. Home.

  That’s what he wanted in a house. He had no idea how to explain it to Indy.

  His mind wandering to her bare legs didn’t help. His mouth watered at the image.

  She’d been stiff but professional throughout their meeting. Unlike the steal-the-spotlight woman he’d seen singing karaoke at Ryan’s bar, Indy, the agent, was a different person. At least until he’d caught her stripping off her pantyhose.

  When he saw that, he wanted to help her loosen the rest of her outfit, starting with her hair. She’d had it all pinned up and neat. He preferred the wild, long hair of Indy the singer. He’d been attracted to her from the first time he laid eyes on her, but she’d kept her distance. Being rejected, even subtly, stuck in his gut. He found himself wanting to press the issue to see if he could change her mind.

  His secretary buzzed, interrupting his less-than-professional thoughts. “Mr. Walker, there’s a Mr. Malcolm on line one. He wouldn’t give a reason for his call. He said it was personal.”

  Malcolm. He knew only one person with that name. The back of his neck tingled.

  “Mr. Walker?”

  “Sorry. I’ll take it.” His finger hovered over the Hold button. He prayed that, for a change, his gut would be wrong. “Hello?”

  “ ’Bout time. How do you like that Mr. Malcolm business? I know how much it bugs you to share my name.” The pride in his cleverness sang across the line.

  Griffin’s shoulder muscles knotted. Dad. As if his life needed more complications. “What do you want?”

  “Now, is that any way to talk to your old man when we haven’t spoken in three years?”

  “With you it’s always the appropriate response.” Griffin pinched the bridge of his nose, grasping for composure.

  “I thought I’d stop by for a visit, but you have some crazy protesters in front of your building. . . .”

  Malcolm obviously wanted to make it clear that he was already in town. Griffin’s mind raced. Everything with Malcolm led to one thing—money. “It would be better if you didn’t come to my office. We have a lot going on right now.” And the last thing I need is questions about who the hell you are. “Do you still have the address for my condo?”

  “Of course.”

  “Meet me there later. Nine o’clock. Don’t call me at work again.”

  After they hung up, Griffin paced his office. He wanted to throw something across the room and smash it, but he didn’t want to draw attention. He’d actually thought his father was gone for good. Maybe even dead. No contact for three years. Before his mother had died.

  If he knew Mom died, he would know he doesn’t have a hold on me anymore. He wouldn’t be back looking for more. Tonight Malcolm would learn. No more handouts. No more contact. No fake father–son bullshit.

  Griffin pushed down the innate desire to have a real father. He’d prefer being a bastard than being Malcolm Walker’s son. He’d get rid of his father one last time.

  No one would know Malcolm Walker existed, just as it always had been.

  Griffin leaned hard against the drywall and screwed it into place. He wasn’t sure how Ryan had suckered him into helping, but it actually felt good. He hadn’t done much manual labor since college. Back then he’d worked any job he could to pay tuition. Today it felt like coming home, a nice escape before having to meet with Malcolm.

  Ryan’s drill whirred away on the opposite side of the room. The radio blared over the noise of their power tools. Kid Rock sang about being seventeen. Before slapping up the next sheet, he grabbed a beer from the cooler on the floor. Having a friend who owned a bar had its perks.

  The room came together. Ryan and his brothers had spent many hours over the last month to get this first apartment above O’Leary’s Pub fit for habitation.

  After taking a long drink of beer, he hefted the next sheet of drywall into place. “So what’s the rush with the wedding?”

  Ryan answered over the sound of the drill. “When it’s right, you know it. Besides, you know my mom.”

  Ryan’s brother Michael crossed the room to the cooler. “Don’t listen to him, Griff. The old man wanted to beat me to the altar.”

  “Is the bathroom done?” Ryan asked.

  “No, slave driver. It’s hotter than a three-alarm fire in there.”

  “Being the big, bad fireman, you should be able to tough it out.” He took the open beer from Michael’s hand and drank.

  Michael took another beer and disappeared back into the bathroom.

  Ryan turned a bucket over and sat on it. “Quinn’s pregnant,” he said quietly.

  Griffin stopped, holding the drill poised for driving in a screw. Then he finished the sheet and took a seat on the floor.

  “You have nothing to say?”

  Shit, he didn’t know how to respond. “Congratulations?”

  “Are you asking?”

  “Seriously. I don’t even get the marriage thing. Now you’re talking about a kid.” He didn’t think he could be faithful to only one woman for the rest of his life. But being a father was a forever thing. “How do you feel about it?”

  He looked at Ryan. No one hid stress better.

  Ryan took a deep breath. “I’m happy. Mostly I’m scared shitless. What do I know about being a dad?”

  “You’ll be fine. You had a great role model. If you’re half the father your dad was, you’ll already be better than most.” The conversation brought Malcolm back to the forefront of his mind. And he couldn’t tell his best friend.

  No one could know about Malcolm and the secrets he brought.

  “Thanks, but it doesn’t make me feel better. What’s been going on with you?”

  Work. Always a safe topic. “Same old. Production’s flying on the new game to get it out for the holidays. Gamers are already buzzing about it.”

  “You don’t sound too excited about making another million.”<
br />
  “I have some group bitching. It’s evil, bad for kids, too violent. Same old crap.” But the noise could impact the new phase of the foundation.

  Ryan laughed. “Whenever you want to give up the corporate life, I’ve got plenty of work to do around here. Three more apartments after this one.”

  “Have you and Quinn decided where you’re going to live?”

  “We’ll stay at the loft for now. She wants to sell it. Indy thinks she should rent it out. It’s one of those places that’ll retain value. Indy’s looking for houses near Twilight for us.”

  Thinking about Indy proved to be a better distraction than anything for getting his father out of his head.

  “I hear you’re finally looking for a house.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not having any luck. The houses Indy’s showing me are . . .” He searched for the right word. Pretentious? “Not right.”

  He finished his beer and pushed to his feet. Feeling the chalky dust on his hands gave him an idea about house hunting. He made a mental note to call Indy later. “Hey, grab me some more screws, wouldya?”

  Ryan kicked a box across the floor.

  “Thanks, Dad.” He smirked at the thought of Ryan holding a screaming baby.

  Ryan chucked a small piece of drywall and it bounced off Griffin’s shoulder. “Not so loud. No one else knows. We’re not saying anything until after the wedding.”

  Griffin snorted. “You don’t think Quinn’s already told Indy and Kate? Get real. I don’t get the impression they have too many secrets.”

  “Keep your mouth shut.”

  Griffin scanned his living room to make sure it held nothing of value his dear old dad could pocket on his way in or out. Small things lay around, none important. His dad couldn’t take anything from him now.

  Ten years ago, he’d thought he’d hit the jackpot. His life was going exactly as planned. He’d fought to be at the top of his field, one of the youngest to reach that kind of success. He had Selena in his life; then his father reappeared.

  Even then, he’d held no expectations about some great relationship, but he figured he at least deserved some answers about why his father had left, to get his side. If nothing else, he could rub his success in his father’s face. Show Malcolm he didn’t need him.

  But he didn’t have the chance. Malcolm had gotten the better of him. He charmed his way into Griffin’s life, talking about how he’d wanted to get in touch for years but didn’t know how. How he’d felt ashamed to come back.

  All part of his game.

  Griffin swallowed the last of the whiskey in his glass. More than one before facing Malcolm and things would get uglier than he could afford. The doorbell buzzed at nine-thirty. Just like Malcolm—keep everyone waiting.

  Griffin answered the door, and the shock at seeing his father registered in his brain, like looking into a fun house mirror that instantly aged him.

  Malcolm looked good. Thinner than Griffin remembered, and grayer, but the charming smile, so much like his own, was the same.

  “Griffin.” He entered the room with his arms spread.

  Here came the deplorable exaggeration of affection. Griffin stepped back to allow Malcolm plenty of room and to make his feelings clear. “Malcolm.”

  “I see you’re still doing well for yourself.”

  Griffin closed the door, trying to hold back anger and resentment. He’d done well despite his father’s absence. His mother had carried the load for both parents. He’d promised himself he’d stay calm and get rid of Malcolm for good. A business transaction. One last time.

  He turned to the man who was the object of his disgust and watched Malcolm appraise the room the same way he had ten years earlier. As far as Griffin knew, Malcolm hadn’t come back to town since then. Every transaction happened via phone and wire.

  “I guess business is good, eh? I mean, all the kids are playing some kind of game or another, right?”

  Griffin tucked his hands in his pockets and waited. Sometimes silence proved to be an effective tool.

  “What, you got nothing to say?” Malcolm crossed his arms.

  “I’ve already asked what you wanted and I never received an answer. That would be a good place to start.” They continued to stare at each other across the room.

  Malcolm broke first. The man wasn’t much of a poker player or businessman. “I haven’t seen you in ten years, unless you count what I read and see in the paper. I thought maybe we could get to know each other.”

  Griffin’s chuckle of disbelief came out more as a growl. “Are you getting so old you can’t remember which ploys you’ve already used? You tried that ten years ago. I guess you’re here for your last check.”

  “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

  “Mom’s dead. More than two years ago. Did you know?”

  Malcolm shook his head. Griffin couldn’t read the expression in the older man’s eyes.

  “This will be the last time you ever contact me. You have nothing else over me. You can’t hurt her anymore. You don’t even deserve money now, but since you had the balls to actually show so I could say this to your face, I’ll give you that.” He crossed the room and opened a drawer to the side table. “How much this time? And remember, it has to last.”

  Now the wheels turned in his father’s head. The realization that he couldn’t get to Griffin through loved ones ruined his plans. First Selena, then Mom. Griffin made sure no one would ever get that close again. But Malcolm still knew about Selena, and Griffin would do anything to save her parents any more pain. Add in the damage to his reputation, and paying his father became worth it.

  “You drive a hard bargain. You’re a lot more like me than just looks. Keep it simple so no one can touch you. I tried to tell your mother so many times. She never understood.”

  The pen in Griffin’s hand began to bend, so he released his grip. “Unless you want to get tossed out on your ass without a check, I suggest you shut up and give me a number.”

  “Fifty thousand.” He smirked as if the number would shock Griffin.

  Hell, he’d expected twice as much. “I’ll cut you a check for ten. I’ll wire the rest when you leave town.”

  Malcolm tilted his head, but then nodded. Griffin scribbled out the check and ripped it from the book. Handing it to Malcolm, he said, “Now get out.”

  With the check tucked safely into his pocket, Malcolm smiled broadly. “A pleasure doing business with you. We’d make quite a team. If we were together, there wouldn’t be a safe heart in all of Chicagoland.”

  Griffin took one step forward and Malcolm jolted from his spot. He quickly left the condo. Griffin returned to his bottle of whiskey and wondered how much he’d need to make him forget where he came from.

  Indy dragged her feet toward her apartment. The bar had been slammed with business. The stack of singles shoved in her pocket made the sore feet and aching back worthwhile. Even though she wanted the money to go straight into her vacation fund, she had a feeling it would be poured into her car instead. The beast had begun making strange noises. Again.

  She stopped in front of her neighbor’s house, surprised to see Richard leaning against her porch. “Hi. What are you doing here?”

  At the sound of her voice, he looked up and his back stiffened. “You said you had to work. I thought you were showing houses, not shaking your tits at a bunch of drunks.”

  She so did not need this right now. She’d had enough of Richard’s jealousy. “I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”

  “We need to talk.”

  She hated that sentence. Nothing good ever came from it. Already sore muscles clenched.

  “About what?” she asked, trying to keep the irritation from her voice. She walked up the steps and unlocked the door.

  Without turning around, she knew Richard scanned the street to check on his car. At least he didn’t make his routine comments about the location of her apartment. She shook her head and went in alone.

  Kicking off her shoes, she
sank onto the couch. The cool leather stuck to her skin. She closed her eyes and relished in the quiet.

  The familiar sound of crinkling cellophane had her gaze shooting up to Richard’s arms. He carried a huge bouquet of roses. He brought roses only when they’d been fighting. Usually because he tried to change her.

  The thought came in a flash, but stuck.

  Why was she still with him? Her best friend, Kate, and Quinn had both been asking her for months. She’d brushed the question aside, but now, as Richard approached her with a serious expression, the question reverberated in her brain. Their relationship was no longer fun.

  He sat beside her and laid the flowers on her lap. “You know I don’t like you working at that place. I’ve offered to help.”

  “I don’t want your money. I can pay my own way.”

  He slid a small, black velvet box onto the table. He flipped the lid and a huge, sparkly diamond winked at her. She wanted to reach out and touch it, but shifted the flowers from her lap to the table beside the ring. Her heart raced and her stomach roiled.

  Marriage had never entered even the remote recesses of her mind. Especially with Richard. He was a guy with money looking for a break, and she knew how to show him a good time. Good times tended to end when commitment came into the picture.

  Someone always had to change.

  “Marry me. You can quit that crappy job and leave this place.” He handed her a key.

  “What’s this?”

  “The divorce is done. I got the house.”

  He took the house from his ex-wife and kids? “What about your kids?”

  “What about them? They’ve moved to a new house. We can start our own family together.”

  The snort burst from her before she thought. “I told you a long time ago. I’m not looking for marriage. I’m not marriage material.”

  “Everyone is marriage material when it’s the right person. You could stop working and stay home to take care of the baby.” He leaned back and crossed his legs as if this was a done deal.