Chapter 30
CHAPTER
RHETT HEADED TO HIS FATHER’S office on the top floor, knocked, and was told to enter.
Barton Temple was sitting behind a whale of a desk that Rhett had been told had come from one of the Chanel chateaus in France. His father was dressed in dark slacks and a white shirt, open at the collar. He was puffing on a cigar, and a glass of bourbon was next to his elbow.
His father pointed to a chair opposite and Rhett plunked himself down.
Barton took a few moments to peck on his keyboard, then took off his trifocals and studied his son, who had slouched in the chair and was gazing at the ceiling.
His father barked, “Sit like a goddamn CEO! Not like some jock in eighth-grade math class!”
Rhett slowly sat up straight and stared across at his father. “I had to cancel some meetings to come out here. What’s up?”
“What’s up is your company, which I gave you, is in danger of going right into the shitter.”
“My numbers are not that bad,” said Rhett. “And Walt—”
“And Walt is looking to jump ship.”
“So you heard?”
“I guarantee I heard before you, boy,” snapped his father.
“Nothing happened.”
“No, something did happen. What happened was he got turned down.”
Rhett sat up even straighter. “Every one of our competitors would sacrifice a child to get Nash. So what happened?”
His father smashed his fist down so hard on the desk’s surface that his bourbon glass moved an inch. “It’s your job to know the answer to that question.”
“I can make some inquiries.”
“You should have already made them.”
“Okay, why do you think they turned him down?”
His father gave him an incredulous look. “I would imagine they turned him down because they are scared shitless of yours truly, boy.”
“O-kay.”
“And at some point I won’t be here, so then it won’t be o-kay if you keep your head buried in your ass.”
“I hear you.”
His father didn’t even appear to be listening. “Nash is tired of cleaning up your messes. Who wouldn’t be?”
“What do you want me to do about it?”
“You do whatever you have to do to keep him happy because there are shops out there that don’t give a shit about taking away one of my top people, and sooner or later they will make a play for Nash. So more salary, more bonus, more everything.”
“How much more?” asked Rhett sharply.
“Just make sure it’s more than you make, boy. And I will check. Now, get out of here.”
“That’s it? Really? Again, you never heard of a freaking text?”
Barton smirked. “What, and not spend quality face-to-face time with my only son?”
Rhett rose and turned to the door.
“One more thing,” said his father.
Rhett turned back.
“You keep screwing the man’s wife, you are going to get burned.” Barton shook his head. “I can understand your interest. I’ve wanted to jump Judith’s bones for years. But I’m far too smart to go down that road. There’s a lot of other ass out there, boy. Go after that and steer clear of her.”
“And who’s going to burn me? Walt? Highly doubtful.”
“Not Walt.”
“Who then?” Rhett sneered. “You? And give me a break. Like you never screwed the help’s wives.”
His father studied him for a long moment. “Okay, I guess you finally need to know. Not exactly my favored choice of timing, but I’m old, tired, and sick of your shit.”
“Need to know what?”
He looked his son over. “How’s the arm where they sliced and diced you?
Still hurt? See, they thought you needed a lesson taught.
Forcefully. They actually wanted to kill you, but I talked them out of that.
So they cut up your arm instead. But you keep doing what you’re doing, your ass is done, and I’ll have no say in it. Understand me?”
Rhett felt as though every nerve in his body had just been set aflame.
His father picked up on this and smiled but there was nothing behind it this time except resignation. “Yeah, boy. If you ever think you know more than I do, think again. Now get out of here. As I said, I’m busy, with matters of importance, which obviously rules you out.”
Rhett left the room, rushed down the stairs, and then plopped into a chair set against a wall in the long hall.
This can’t be happening. He knows. He more than knows. He’s… all part of it. Which means he… got me into this… nightmare.
He got up, struggling to catch his breath, desperate for some… help.
Rhett hurried downstairs to the wing where there was an indoor gym and spa area that his father had built out for Mindy.
It had a large fitness space, a hot tub, a lap pool, a steam shower, a sauna, a massage room, a hair and nail salon, and an immersion tank.
He rushed into one of the bathrooms and did his line of coke, snorting it with a velocity powered by a burst of anxiety he had never felt before in his entire pampered existence.
I am so screwed. And my own father screwed me.
He turned and walked out of the bathroom only to see Mindy staring at him. She had stepped out of the adjacent sauna, lightly perspiring and with a towel wrapped around her.
“You look a little out of sorts, Rhett,” she observed.
Regaining his composure he answered, “And you look a little out of clothes, Mom.”
“Oh come on, I’m wearing more than when you were watching me all the way down the hall. And if you have complaints I can always put my itty-bitty bikini back on.”
“I don’t have time for this, Mindy.”
“Did ‘Daddy’ drop a bombshell on you or something?”
“What do you know about it?” he said sharply.
“Just taking a guess based on your pale face and that smear of coke on your nostril, and the fact that you’re not looking like you want to screw me right now.”
“That was then, this is now.”
“‘That was then’ was the night before my wedding, Rhett. We had a nice time before I said my vows to your father.” She dropped the towel, drew close, and ran her fingers over his chest. “I can act the supportive stepmom and help you through what must be a crisis and let you get back at Barton for whatever he did.”
He gave her a searching look, but in his heart of hearts Rhett knew that his father never would have disclosed anything about Victoria Steers and his involvement with her to this woman.
She said, “And then you can help me with the little matter we discussed earlier.”
As she nudged herself against him, Rhett’s faint defenses fell away.
He knew he shouldn’t. But it might have been the coke pop, the stunning revelation that his father was in business with Victoria Steers, or the fact that when it came to women, he had no willpower.
They headed for the massage room, where there was an adequately sturdy bed.
Thirty minutes later he walked out, leaving a contented Mindy still lying under the sheets.
As he drove away from his father’s home he had problems to solve.
And Walter Nash was right at the very top of his list.