11. Delia
CHAPTER 11
delia
I watched Hawk—Hunter Hawkins, billionaire businessman—saunter confidently out of the bar. Once he was gone, I pulled out my phone and opened up the browser tab with his Wikipedia page and went back to the original Google search. Pulled up the images and scrolled.
An old headshot, likely from his LinkedIn profile. Dozens of photographs from tabloid magazines—him with a rotating bevy of women, most of them famous to one degree or another; models, actresses, pop stars, influencers, and whatever the fuck a "socialite" is. Photographs of him getting into and out of limousines, usually with a phone to his ear and sunglasses on his face, wearing a three-piece suit like he was born in it.
Professional photographs of him from interviews, with soft lighting and digital retouching to unnecessarily perfect his already perfect facial structure, on folding chairs in blank industrial spaces.
So many photographs.
"How the fuck did I not recognize him?" I whispered out loud.
"Wondering that myself, hon," Dad said.
I shook my head. "I don't know. I mean, I know who he is. But…like, who cares? He's some billionaire businessman. Had he been Henry Cavill, obviously, I'd have known who he was. A lot of people way less famous than him I'd have recognized. But I don't follow pop culture all that much, and he's not…he's not pop culture anyway. He's famous because he's hot and rich."
Dad snorted a laugh. "I suppose that makes sense. To me, he's just one of those people who have been photographed so much it’s hard to fathom anyone not knowing him on sight."
"I know, I know," I said, and then moaned in embarrassment, thunking my head down onto the table. "I feel stupid. I guess I just…we're in Ketchikan fucking Alaska. Why on God's green earth would Hunter Hawkins be here ? It just didn't occur to me that he would turn out to be… him ."
Dad patted my shoulder. "I wouldn't waste any more time on that aspect of this whole situation, honey. You didn't know. Now you do. What's next?"
I sat up rubbing my forehead because I'd thunked a little too dramatically. "Fuck if I know, Dad." I looked at him. "What do you think about his proposal?"
Dad thought for a while before answering. "Honestly, as much as I hate to admit it, his points about Anchorage make a lot of sense. We set it up, got it going, and assumed because it had our name on it that it would just… go the way the locations here do. I mean, like he said, you're the only family member who can regularly be found in any of the bars here these days. I pop in here to do paperwork and whatever a few times a week, and I pull three or four shifts a week bartending, but I’m nowhere near as present as I was even a few years ago. But business is as good as ever."
"I'm just gonna play devil's advocate for a second here," I said. "Why do you say, 'as much as I hate to admit it?' And be honest with yourself about it."
He scratched his beard. "I dunno, actually, now that you ask. I guess I'm preconditioned to dislike guys like him."
"Meaning?" I pressed.
"Richer than god. Stupid good-looking. Had everything handed to him on a silver platter his whole fucking life, acting like he owns the whole world."
"But Dad, you spent less than half an hour with him, and he spent most of that on his presentation. How do you know anything about him?"
"Presentation is a strong word for that. So is pitch, for that matter. He had a few slides and some half-baked ideas."
"Which he came here himself to present to you. Dad, he's Hunter fucking Hawkins. He owns a whole-ass skyscraper in Manhattan. Anyone else would have sent some lackey with a fancy, spit-polished, picture-perfect pitch that we both would have hated. He came here himself. He did in-person research. He put together the pitch or whatever you want to call it himself and presented it himself."
"So you're saying I’m not giving him a fair shake because of what I've read and heard about him in the media, is that it?"
"Yes," I answered. "Exactly. Look, I'm trying really hard to keep things separate. But at this point, I don't think I can, and I don't know that it makes any sense to try. I've spent a good bit of time with him over the last few weeks, Dad, talking, hanging out, and…a little bit of other stuff that you don't want to know about. My estimation of the man that I've come to know is that he's smart, creative, funny, and interesting. He didn't have everything handed to him on a silver platter, either. Yeah, he grew up very wealthy. But his dad gave him five hundred thousand dollars the day he graduated high school and basically told him to figure it out himself. He hasn’t used any money from his trust fund or inheritance to build his business or live off and doesn’t consider himself really a billionaire because he hasn’t passed that threshold solely on his own merit. He's only considered one if you count assets from his family."
Dad huffed. "Five hundred grand is a lot, especially for an eighteen-year-old. But I guess I gotta give him respect for building a hell of a successful company out of that."
"Exactly. So, put your personal feelings aside, mainly because your personal feelings seem predicated on…I won’t say it’s a false premise, but it’s pretty close. Look at his proposal objectively. Anchorage is not doing well. We’ve known that for months, at least. We’ve gotten a pretty steady flow of complaints from customers, and the tweaks and changes we’ve made haven’t done diddly squat. We fired the manager and hired a new one. Set guidelines and best practices. Nothing has changed. Anchorage is still floundering."
"I know, I know," Dad said, running his hand through his hair. "A shutdown, redo, and reopening does make sense."
"And the only way we can afford to make that happen without leveraging assets or something—which, like, how would that even work? I'm twenty-two, I don't fuckin' know—is to bring in outside money. Right?"
Dad nodded. "Right. We'd have to take out loans or leverage the equity we have by owning this place outright. We're doing well. We have money. Three out of four locations are in the black. But the kind of cash we're talking about to totally shut down Anchorage, fire everyone, the time it would take to scout and hire management, supervisors, front-of-house staff and back-of-house staff, remodel, and do a grand reopening? It would put us in a bad position financially. Unless we pressed family for cash, but I wouldn't do that unless it was an emergency. Which, I mean, Anchorage is failing, so it does feel pretty critical to fix that one way or another."
"Agreed," I said. "So…?"
He let out a long, lip-flapping sigh. "Fuck. He's our best option. It's a sound proposal. He's not asking for a percentage across the board, only from the locations he provides funding for. That’s fair. I mean, I’m sure the percentage he's gonna want will hurt, but…I guess that could be negotiated." He looked at me. "There's just one element I'm not sure how to get past."
"Someone has to be in Anchorage full-time for at least a year. He said six months to a year, but I think realistically, to make sure things are done right and all, a year is minimum." I tapped the tabletop with my fingernails, thinking.
"Agreed," Dad said. "But who? I can't. Mom can't. Kitty can't. The boys can't. Your other aunts and uncles are all busy with their own lives and careers. They like pulling a shift here and there for fun, but Badd's is our baby, Dee."
"I know. Which means it'd have to be me."
"And who would run the Kitty?"
I shrugged. "Zeke. I wouldn't have to move there for a few months, assuming we signed a contract today and got started tomorrow. But that stuff takes time to put together. So give me a few months and I could get Zeke ready to manage the Kitty. That's not an issue. You may have to spend some time there regularly to keep an eye on things till you trust him, but Zeke is good. He closes for me all the time."
Dad nodded. "Right, okay. So…you'd consider it, then?"
I rubbed my face with both hands and then covered my face with them, sighing, thinking. "Yeah, I would. I wouldn't want to live there full-time, forever. My home is here. But to get Anchorage running correctly? I could do a year—more likely a year and a half. It's not that far, either, so I can come back and visit regularly."
"It's pretty far, babe. Driving is like, what, almost forty hours nonstop? You'd have to fly if you're gonna do it regularly, and that adds up."
I didn't want to say what popped into my head because it was patently ridiculous—the thought had something to do with Hawk and a private jet and the perks that would come from being a billionaire's girlfriend.
See? Ridiculous. I'm not gonna date someone for the perks. I don't even know if I wanna date that man.
Lies. I want that man in my bed, and I want to handcuff him there and never let him leave.
Kidding, mostly.
Dad and I sat quietly for a while, each lost in our thoughts.
"So we're considering his proposal?" Dad said after a few minutes. "This obviously can't be a unilateral decision I make. I've essentially made you VP of Operations of Badd's Bar Enterprises. You're the one who'd have to relocate to oversee the expansion. And from what he said, he’d want to eventually do more locations. Which would mean more relocating for you.” He fixed me with a serious look. “You need to think really hard about if that's what you want, Delia."
I nodded absently. “Yeah, I guess I've got some thinking to do."
He rubbed my back. 'Why don't you take the day, sweetheart? I'll handle things here and at the Kitty."
“Yeah, good plan. Thanks." I turned and hugged him. "Love you, Dad."
He kissed the top of my head, squeezing me gently. "Love you too, kiddo."
I slid out of the booth, got in my Ranger, and headed north for my thinking spot. Once there, I did what I always do when I have a major life decision to make: I called Sunni.
She answered on the fourth ring, panting. “Let me call you back in fifteen, yeah? I'll have time to talk."
"Okay," I said. "Talk soon. But it is pretty important."
“You okay?"
"I've just got a lot to fill you in on," I said.
"Fifteen minutes and I'm all yours."
It was more like twenty, but whatever. My phone burbled with an incoming video call. I answered, and Emerson popped up on my screen, her hair wet from a recent shower, the wall of her room behind her.
"So, talk to me," she said. "What's going on?"
"You first. My shit will take a lot of time to go over, and I want to know how you are. How's your man? How's life now that camp is over?"
She grinned. "Hayden is great, and life is great. I made the team!"
I squealed. "Of course you did! I'm so fucking proud of you, babe!"
She did a silly little dance, and I joined her until we dissolved into laughter. "For real, though, I'm so geeked. It was pretty brutal, but it was good. Those bitches are competitive, Dee. It's cutthroat as fuck out here." She sighed. "I'm a team player, you know? Like, I’m out here to win, yeah, but I want the team to win, not just me. So I had to sort of put on my bitch hat."
"Sunni-girl, you don't have a bitchy bone in your body."
“It turns out I do. A girl twisted her ankle and I was glad because it meant one less person to compete against." She waved a hand. "Hayden was so supportive, though. I just love him so much, it's silly." She lit up just talking about him. "We have some time off coming up, so we're gonna spend a few days up there."
"I can't wait! I feel like it's been ages since I’ve seen you."
"Right?" She clapped her hand. "Okay, so you're caught up on me. Now. Spill. I need to know everything."
So, I spilled the tea. I told her about meeting Hawk, that first kiss, the insane fucking orgasm he gave me, everything we'd talked about, the question of his identity, the business aspect, his proposal, everything. The only thing I didn't tell her was his name.
When I was done, Sunni was quiet for a while. "So he's hot, rich, has a great cock, gives you orgasms that literally make you pass out…am I missing anything?" she asked.
"Yeah. He kept his identity from me until today."
"But he told you he was."
"Right."
"And he didn't try to leverage your personal relationship for an advantage with the business deal he's proposing?"
"No. When we're together, it's purely personal."
"And he's not an asshole."
"So far, no."
"No wife, girlfriend, kids?"
"Nope."
"How do you know, though?" she asked. "I mean, you don't have the greatest track record with guys being honest about that. And also, when are you going to tell me his fucking name?"
"I know he's telling the truth because of who he is." I sucked in a breath, held it, and let it out slowly. "He's…ummm…his name is Hunter Hawkins."
Silence greeted this.
And then: "Shut…the fuck …up."
"Facts."
"Hunter Hawkins— the Hunter Hawkins—went down on you? You sucked Hunter Hawkins’ cock. You slept in his bed. You broke into his house? He made you breakfast!"
"Yes, Emerson."
"How did you not recognize him? He was on fucking Time magazine! TMZ does features on him like every other week."
I sighed. "I'm not sure, honestly. I mean, you don't expect someone like him to show up in Alaska, right? Like, he was just there at my bar. I always had this niggling idea that I should know who he is. I guess if I'd taken a picture of him, I could have reverse image searched him and figured it out, but…"
"You wanted him to tell you, so you intentionally kept yourself in the dark. Because you have trust issues when it comes to romance."
"Correct." I slid off the tailgate of my truck, went down to the edge of the water, and sat down. "I don't know what to do, Em."
"What do you want?" she asked.
"I don't know !” I shouted. "I don't know."
"Buuuuull shiiiiit,” she sang. “Yes, you do."
"I…" I laughed a sigh. "Yeah, I guess I do. I want him. I want things to be real with him. I want…I want the Hawk I've gotten to know to be the real him. But how do I reconcile that with him investing in my family's business? Especially if we do go into business with him and I end up living in fucking Anchorage for a year?"
"Do you want to move to Anchorage?"
I laughed. "I don't even fucking know, Em. Legit, I don't know. I mean…no? But yes."
She cackled. "Wow. That clarifies things."
"No, because Ketchikan is home. My whole family is here. Everyone I know is here. I know zero humans in Anchorage. I'd be totally alone, and that doesn't sound particularly nice." I shook my head, sighing.
"But?" She prompted.
"But also…I kinda do want to do it. I've only ever left Ketchikan a handful of times, and never alone. It would be an adventure, I suppose. It would be a lot of responsibility, and if I want to take over for Dad sooner rather than later, I need to know I can handle it. I guess…I mean, I live with my parents. I've never had to stand totally on my own two feet. I'm a grown-up, but…not totally, you know?"
"I do. I get it. It sounds to me like the reasons to go to Anchorage outweigh the reasons not to. And I mean, it also seems like the consensus from what I’m hearing is that you and Dad—" She blinked hard at that, paused to clear her throat, still emotional about the whole adoption thing. “You and Dad have pretty much decided that Hunter’s proposal is the only real option you have. It’s that, or it goes under, or you have to ask everyone else for money. Which, you know they’d all give you everything you need and then some, but that's not really the point."
"Yeah, that's pretty much the lay of things at the moment."
"So, I think you should do it." She set the phone down so all I saw was the ceiling, and then she picked it back up again.
"You do?" I asked.
"Absolutely. It would be good for you. It won't be easy, Dee, make no mistake. It'd be a lot of work, and you'd get homesick and lonely. But at the risk of sounding trite or cliche or whatever, it'd help you find yourself."
"Yeah, you're not wrong." I chewed on the idea of moving to Anchorage and found myself not hating it but feeling a little excited with a decent helping of trepidation. "And what about Hawk? What do I do about him? I mean, is there even a point? He lives in Manhattan. He dates movie stars and models. I…how do I fit into the man's life? I don't."
"Isn't that for him to decide? If he wants you to fit into his life, he'll make a way. And shit, honey, he certainly has the resources to make it happen. He could probably afford to fly out to see you every weekend. I mean, he has to have a private jet, right?"
"Honestly, I don't know. I don't know much about Hunter Hawkins. I know Hawk, but I guess I get the distinct feeling, based on absolutely nothing concrete whatsoever, that Hawk is pretty different from Hunter Hawkins." I sighed, hating how shaky and emotional I sounded—and felt. "Am I just getting caught up in the sexual, Em? Because we haven’t fucked. Did I say that yet? We’ve only messed around. And, like, is that messing with me? Am I creating a connection that's not there because I'm anticipating how crazy intense the sex would be?"
"I can't answer that, babe. I haven't met the man or seen you two together."
"I know. I know, I just…" I flopped backward on the bank, groaning. It feels real. And…" my eyes watered—it was Emerson, so I didn't bother trying to hide it from her. "I guess I finally want something real. Is it him? Or am I just tired of the losers I've wasted my life on up until now? Is it the Badd Family Love Charm?"
"Answer your own question, Dee. No thinking—first answer that comes to mind: Are you in love with Hunter Hawkins, or do you just want to find out if the sex is as good as you're imagining it would be?" When I hesitated, she yelled at me. "Quick! Answer! Right now!"
"I'minlovewithhim," I blurted and then clapped my hand over my mouth. "Fuck."
Emerson was stunned silent for a moment. "Wow. Okay. That's a development I didn't see coming."
"That makes two of us," I said. "Holy shit. How did this happen? I barely know him. What the actual fuck , Sunni? What do I do?"
"Talk to him. Give him a chance." Emerson laughed. "I would like to take this opportunity to say I FUCKING TOLD YOU SO! I called it. I told you you were next. And here you are!"
"I hate you," I said. "You jinxed me."
"I know," she said. "But really, you love me. And just to point out the facts and the logic here, I didn't do anything. I'm not in charge of the Badd Family Love Charm. You're just its next victim."
"I guess I need to go talk to Hawk.” I let out a wordless scream just for the hell of it. "Fuck! This is crazy, Emerson. I fell in love with Hunter Hawkins and I didn't even know it."
Emerson just laughed. "I know it's scary, especially this part where you have no fucking clue what's going to happen, but just try to remember that no matter what does happen, you'll be fine. You've got dozens of people who love you and support you, and if this whole thing does go sideways on you, we'll be there for you, and we'll help you pick up the pieces. And if it goes well, we’ll be there to cheer you on as you and your hot-as-fuck billionaire boyfriend make a life together."
"Hot as fuck billionaire boyfriend," I echoed. "I guess I could get used to that."
"When you do fuck him, I'm gonna need details, yeah?"
I giggled, covering my face as the giggle turned into spluttering laughter. "You know I'd never leave you hanging, sis."
She was silent a beat. "Well?”
I frowned at the screen. "Well what?"
"Why are you still on the phone with me? Go! Your billionaire awaits!"
"Yeah, but I'm scared."
Her voice was soft. "That's how you know it's real. You wouldn't be scared if you didn't truly, deeply care."
"I know. I'm not sure I like it," I said. "It was easier when my feelings weren't involved. Just sex and fun and that's it."
"Yeah, but how many of those boys ever made you come so hard you passed out?"
"Zero."
"And how many of them were as honest as he's been? And Dee, babe, in a weird, backward sort of way, the fact that he told you he wasn't being forthcoming about his identity was in itself a bizarre kind of honesty. And he had pretty valid reasons for it. If you'd have known who he really was, would you have given him the time of day?"
"No," I answered, miserable. "Not likely. I'd have judged him for what I think I know about him. I'd have made assumptions."
"Exactly. Dee, honey, from what you’ve told me, he seems like a good and decent man. Looks or wealth aside, that's something."
"And if anyone could understand and accept his dating history, it's me."
"And vice versa." She let out a breath. "Look, babe. You can sit here all day and all night thinking and overthinking this whole thing. But you won't ever know what's gonna happen till you give it a chance. So hang up, pull up your big girl panties, and go talk to the man."
And so, that's what I did.