11. Ransom
11
RANSOM
W here the fuck am I?
Yeah, this was the plan, but it's only been six months, and I don't recognize this place. The formerly depressing corporate office has been completely overhauled, and finally, for the first time in six months, I'm excited at the idea of moving in.
"What do you think?" Cara asks, her stilettos clicking on the polished floor as she walks beside me.
"It's... impressive," I admit, running my hand along a sleek wall. "I can actually see us working here now."
The contractor, a stocky man named Bill, leads us through the space. "We've addressed all the issues you pointed out during the last walkthrough," he says. "But please, let me know if you spot anything else."
Cara nods, her sharp eyes scanning every surface. "What about that scuff mark on the baseboard over there?" she points out.
Bill squints, leaning so far forward he looks like he’s about to tip, then nods. "Good catch. We'll touch that up before we're done."
I have to squint and take three steps forward before I spot the scuff. Am I just old? "You've got eagle eyes, Cara."
She grins at me. "Details, Ransom. It's all about the details."
Cara's a master of details, which makes her the perfect assistant. I like to look at the big picture, set things in motion, and let her run with them.
As we continue through the building, I start to truly picture working here. Everyone has their own space, but there are better options for gathering and just more room to move.
"Hey, Ransom," Cara calls out, interrupting my thoughts. "Come check out this view."
I join her at a large window overlooking the city—well, a different part of the industrial area. But it's a nice view, especially compared to the sea of parking lots at our current headquarters.
"It's not too shabby, is it?" Cara says, nudging me with her elbow. "I think the boys are going to love it here."
"Yeah," I agree, a smile tugging at my lips. "I think you're right."
We move on to the kitchen area because that's the one thing all of us could agree on: we need a big kitchen with someone to cook in it, and Cara immediately starts pointing out potential issues. "Are these countertops sealed properly? And what about the backsplash? It seems a bit uneven here."
Bill assures her that everything will be perfect before we move in, but I can see the determination in Cara's eyes. She's not letting anything slip by.
"You know," I say to her as we examine a conference room, "I'm glad you're here for this. I'd probably miss half of these things."
Cara laughs. "That's why we make such a good team, Ransom. You've got the big ideas, and I've got the eye for detail. That’s why you keep me around."
"That must be why," I reply. But that's not it. It never was. Cara has a giant set of brass balls. Combine that with her loyalty, and she's irreplaceable.
Which she reminds me of repeatedly at her annual salary reviews. She makes double what my competitors would pay for the same position, and she's worth every penny.
Cara smiles, placing a hand on my arm. "I told you it would work out. Sometimes change is good, Ransom."
I nod, taking one last look around. "Yeah, I think you're right. This is going to be good for all of us."
And this time, I actually believe it.
It's nearly the end of the day by the time I get back to headquarters. The lobby is mostly empty, except for a few staff and one larger man in very bright overalls sitting in the waiting area. I don't think anything of him until he says my name.
"Mr. Kyle? Ransom Kyle?"
I turn to face the man who called my name, bracing myself for anything. A sob story about a sick daughter. A plan for a new business he needs an investor in. An attack.
All things that have happened to me in the last year.
He's massive, easily six feet tall and pushing four hundred pounds, but there's no aggression in his stance. Instead, he's wearing what looks like sequined coveralls, a sight that momentarily throws me off balance.
Before I can speak, the man hits play on an old-fashioned boombox at his feet. Music fills the lobby, and suddenly, he begins to dance. I'm stunned into silence, watching as this mountain of a man busts a move. And fuck if he can't move, despite his size.
"What the fuck?" I mutter under my breath, unable to tear my eyes away.
Nick sidles up next to me, followed closely by Maverick and Kade. "Uh, Ransom? What's happening?" Nick asks, his voice a mix of confusion and amusement.
I shake my head, still watching the dancer. "I have no fucking idea."
The guy's good, really good. His moves are fluid and precise, each step perfectly timed to the beat. It's... impressive, to say the least. I find myself tapping my foot along with the music, almost against my will. I mean, a guy in sequined overalls starts dancing, you're gonna stop and watch.
"Damn, he's got moves," Maverick says, a grin spreading across his face.
Kade nods, his eyes wide. "No shit. I didn't think a guy that size could move like that."
As we watch, transfixed, the dancer builds to a crescendo. Then, with a dramatic flourish, he stops. In one smooth motion, he grips his sparkling pink coveralls and rips them off, revealing an equally sparkly pink thong underneath.
"Holy shit," I breathe, my jaw dropping. It's like watching a car wreck. You know all kinds of bad things are coming, but you just can't look away.
The dancer twirls in a full circle, giving us a 360-degree view of his... outfit. Then he slaps his bare ass with a resounding smack that echoes through the lobby. When he turns to face me again, his expression has shifted from performer to serious messenger.
"I have a message for you from Blair," he announces, his voice deep and theatrical.
My stomach drops at the mention of Blair's name. Suddenly, this isn't funny anymore. I brace myself, knowing whatever's coming can't be good.
The dancer clears his throat and, with all the drama of a Shakespearean actor, declares, "Leave me the fuck alone. I'm not selling, and I'm sick of you harassing me. It’s getting pathetic."
I feel the blood drain from my face as the words hit me. Who else would send a dancing stripper to deliver a "fuck you" message?
The dancer throws his discarded coveralls over his shoulder like a fashionable scarf, picks up his boombox, and starts chanting as he walks toward the exit. "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you," he repeats, his voice echoing off the walls.
Just before he reaches the door, he turns back to us with a cheerful wave, the abrupt shift almost giving me whiplash.
Nick, Maverick, and Kade burst into laughter, waving back at the departing dancer. I stand there, frozen, my mind reeling from what just happened.
"That was fucking awesome!" Kade wheezes between laughs.
"Did you see his moves?" Nick adds, wiping tears from his eyes. "And that outfit!"
Maverick claps me on the shoulder, still chuckling. "Gotta hand it to Blair, man. That's one hell of a way to send a message."
I nod numbly, unable to form words. Blair's always been creative, but this... this is a whole new level.
Suddenly, Colton bursts past us, running toward the exit. "Wait!" he shouts after the dancer. "I need your card! I'm gonna hire you for everything!" Where the fuck did he come from?
As Colton disappears out the door, I finally find my voice. "Well," I say, running a hand through my hair, "I guess Blair's not interested in selling."
The guys laugh again, and I force a smile, trying to play it off. But inside, I'm a mess of conflicting emotions. Part of me wants to laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all, but another part aches at the reminder of how much Blair hates me now.
I stand there, my jaw clenched tight, as Colton bursts back through the doors, waving a glittery business card like a trophy.
"Got it!" he exclaims, grinning from ear to ear. "This guy's gonna be at every party from now on." His smile falters as he takes in our expressions. "So, what the fuck's happening?"
Kade nods and points at Colton. “What he said.”
I can't bring myself to speak. The weight of Blair's message sits heavy in my chest, making it hard to breathe. But beneath that weight, there's an annoying flicker of hope that won't fucking die. I've tried. Over and over. For years.
Mav and Nick exchange a look, silently debating who's going to explain.
Nick clears his throat. "Well, you see, Blair is..."
"Ransom's foster sister," Mav jumps in. "They grew up together in Badger Falls."
Colton's eyes widen. "Foster sister? Holy shit, Ransom, why didn't you tell us?"
I remain silent, my gaze fixed on a spot on the wall. I can feel their eyes on me, waiting for a response, but I've got nothing to give. How do I explain that Blair isn't just my foster sister but the woman I've measured every relationship against for the past twenty-five years?
Nick breaks the awkward silence. "So, what now, Ransom? Five million clearly isn't going to cut it."
Mav nods. He trades glances with the others, then looks at me hesitantly. "Maybe it's time to stop. We've tried everything short of kidnapping her and forcing her to sign."
I feel a muscle twitch in my jaw. "You're right," I say, my voice low and controlled. "It's time to stop."
They all nod, relief evident on their faces. But inside, I'm far from done. I'm going to get that paperwork signed myself. More than that, I need to see her face, hear her voice. I need to know, once and for all, that she hates me as deeply now as she did that night. Maybe then I can finally close the door on us.
"I've got some things to take care of," I say abruptly, turning on my heel. "I'll see you all tomorrow."
As I walk away, I hear them muttering among themselves, probably wondering what the hell just happened. But I don't care. My mind is already racing, planning my next move.
I head straight for my office, shutting the door behind me with a bit more force than necessary. I slump into my chair, the weight of years of feelings pressing down on me.
My brothers have no clue what I'm about to do, and that's exactly how I want it. They'd try to talk me out of it, tell me I'm being irrational. Maybe they're right. But I can't shake this feeling that I need to do this, that I need to see Blair face to face.
It'll be simple. A couple of hours to drive out there, a few minutes to talk to her, get the paperwork signed, and I'll be home before midnight. Easy.
But as I start gathering my things, that hope rears to life again. What if she doesn't hate me as much as I think she does? What if there's still a chance? Logically, that's the last thing I want. My life is here, in this city, with my family. Going back, making a life anywhere but here, is not in the fucking plan.
No. I shake my head, trying to dislodge the dangerous thought. I'm going there to end this, not to rekindle something that died years ago. I need to see the loathing in her eyes, hear the venom in her voice. Then I can finally let go of the ridiculous hope that's been haunting me for more than half my life.
This isn't about us anyway. It's about Robert. And I always keep my promises. That's why this is so important to me. I need to fulfill Robert's dying wish. That's the only reason I'm going.
It's not because I want to see Blair. And I sure as fuck don't want to see if there's still that same spark between us.
At least, that's what I keep telling myself as I grab my keys and head for the door. But deep down, I know the truth.
I'm terrified of what I might find in Badger Falls, but I'm even more terrified of spending the rest of my life wondering, "What if?"