4. Ford
FORD
“Hey, Ford!” my baby sister greets me from the couch.
I stop short and take her in. Her honey-brown hair is piled on her head, and her outfit choice is the same one from yesterday.
A pair of baggy Nike sweatpants and a white crop-top.
Add in the still-open bag of barbecue chips, can of Diet Coke, and rumpled My Little Pony blanket across her lap, and I’m convinced I walked into a sorority house instead of my own home.
It’s not that I don’t like Cobie being here.
I love it, actually. It’s just different.
She hasn’t been back for long, and I’m still getting used to a woman in the house.
Or at least, one who isn’t Violet, one of Roman’s or Jagger’s prior conquests, or Doris.
Doris is our childhood nanny, current cleaning lady, and cook when she feels like it.
But I digress. Tossing my keys into the bowl on a small table beside the front door, I return, “Hey, Cobes.”
After some much-needed coffee, I spent the day working.
There’s a hockey game tonight, and I figured dropping in on a few clients to see if they’d like to place a bet or two would be a solid distraction from the impending shit-storm our business is in, thanks to Jagger’s fight.
Unfortunately, I might’ve given a few of the regulars a little too good odds now that the game is underway and I’ve run the numbers.
Welp. There goes my good mood.
Fuck.
I stride into the family room, heading for the stairs so I can wallow in my room when Cobie reaches for the remote. With a click, she turns off the television and faces me fully. It’s like she was waiting for me to walk through the front door.
Okay. So much for going to my room.
She looks nervous. Anxious, maybe. After our mom died, Daddy Dearest shipped her off under the guise of needing a feminine touch.
One she couldn’t get while living under our roof, once mom was six feet under.
Since she’s the baby of the family and the only girl, he was convinced she’d be better off anywhere else.
Pimpton Preparatory Academy. An all-girls school.
It seemed to fit the bill, while simultaneously benefiting my sperm donor in another way.
To keep us boys in line, he’d dangle my sister’s visits in front of us like they were carrots in front of a herd of horses.
And it worked. Fuck, we’d do anything to see Cobie for a long weekend or over the holidays, until he began expecting perfection.
When we’d inevitably fall short, Cobie would pay for it.
Fast forward a handful of years to the time my sister accidentally burned down her dorm, was kicked out of school with nowhere else to go, and voila, here she is.
Honestly, I still can’t figure out his reason for letting her stay instead of shipping her off somewhere else. But I’m not about to draw attention to it. Her presence. Let her fly under the radar for as long as possible. Maybe he’ll forget about her existence entirely. If only we were so lucky.
As she watches me with her lips pressed together, I ask, “Can I help you?”
“I mean, only if you’re not busy.”
My mouth quirks, despite my exhaustion. “Spit it out, Cobes. You’re making me nervous.”
She fiddles with her fingers in her lap. “So…you’re the money guy.”
“The money guy?”
Thanks to her long-time absence and our need to keep our less-than-legitimate extracurricular activities off the average person’s radar, I can’t help my curiosity.
Anything she knows would be by word of mouth or eavesdropping.
Not that we’ve actively tried to keep her in the dark, but we haven’t laid out every detail, either.
What does this girl know?
“You know, the money guy,” she repeats, peeking up at me. “The one who handles the money.”
“Figured that’s what you meant when you called me the money guy,” I reply. I take a seat on the arm of the couch and fold my arms. “So?”
“So, I thought I could maybe…pick your brain,” she continues.
About what? I want to ask as she twists the blanket in her lap like it’s a dirty dishrag. “Go on,” I encourage her.
“Well.” Realizing she’s fidgeting, Cobie smooths out the blanket. “Dad called me and mentioned how it might be a good idea for me to…to kind of host a charity event.”
What is it with Titas’s obsession with charity events?
He’s the most selfish asshole I know. The man wouldn’t give a dime unless there were a hundred cameras and reporters to document it.
Now, he’s wrangling Cobie into doing his dirty work all for the family name?
What a dick. And what’s worse is the way Cobie rolls over and takes it.
Maybe it’s a compilation of everything that’s happened today, but now that Cobie’s mentioned Daddy Dearest, my patience is paper-thin.
Ignoring the twitch beneath my right eye, I ask, “And what do you think?”
“I mean, it’s for charity. How can I say no?”
“By saying no,” I answer dryly.
She shoves my arm, nearly shoving me off the side of the couch, before I regain my balance. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“When are you going to stop doing everything he tells you to?” I ask. The words aren’t sharp, they’re defeated. How can she not see it? The truth?
Cobie shakes her head. “I don’t—”
“You do,” I push. “You know you do.”
“Okay, maybe I do,” she concedes. She looks back at her lap, slowly tracing the swirl of Rainbow Dash’s tail. “But if I can just…if I can get Dad’s approval, then…”
“I think you’re forgetting who our father is,” I argue.
Buzzing hits my ears while I fight the urge to stand and pace the room.
Instead, I keep my ass planted where it is as I tell her the truth, no matter how much it makes me the bad guy.
“Because you’ll never have his approval, Cobes.
Never. You can be a goddamn saint, and he still won’t give it to you. ”
A slight wobble hits her bottom lip, proving I’ve hit my mark.
Damn, I really am a bastard.
“That’s enough,” someone orders with a sharpness that, bluntly put, would make most men piss themselves.
I glance toward the stairs leading to the second floor.
Roman watches us from the top of them. I wonder how much he heard.
His hands are balled into fists as he leans against the wall, though I see right through it.
His nonchalance. Nah, my boy’s pissed, but I can’t decide if it’s because of something that transpired before he walked in on my conversation with Cobie or if it’s because…
I was having a blunt conversation with Cobie.
To be fair, he’s always had a soft spot for my baby sister.
We all have. However, I am surprised he’s sticking his nose in our family’s shit.
“You know I’m not wrong, Rome,” I tell him.
And it’s true. He’s been around long enough to see who my father is when the cameras aren’t around.
The way he talks about money. About the family business.
About his sons and his daughter. About people who are less fortunate.
Who need help. Like Roman himself, before we befriended him.
Brought him in. Gave him a place to stay.
A family. Not that he didn’t have one, but his mom worked two jobs to put food on the table, and his older brother, Rafe, spent more time pushing drugs than playing big brother, leaving Roman to fend for himself until our paths crossed.
Then he saw firsthand who the real Titas Harden was.
Roman’s jaw clicks. “I said, that’s enough.”
He’s right. But so am I. And we both know it, even if he refuses to admit it out loud.
The sooner my little sister comes to terms with who our father isn’t, the sooner she’ll get out from under his thumb and will put a stop to his manipulation.
But how do I say that without hurting her in the process?
Coming to terms with your father being a selfish prick isn’t a picnic. I should cut her some slack.
Squeezing the back of my neck, I take a deep breath, grounding myself. “Look, I’m sorry,” I tell Cobie. “I shouldn’t have been an ass, okay? I was out of line.”
“It’s fine—”
“No, it’s not. Today’s been a bitch, but it’s no excuse.
” I slide from the couch’s arm and onto the cushion beside her.
With a gentle squeeze of her knee, I silently demand her full attention when it’s clear she’d rather stare at the childhood blanket in her lap.
“Tell me, why are you asking the money man about this event?” I push.
She shakes her head. “Forget it.”
“Tell me.”
She peeks up at me. “Because I need to earn or…want to earn at least twenty grand for the night.”
Something about her word choice niggles the back of my brain.
The way she corrects herself. The way she has a specific number in mind.
The question is, did she come up with it, or did Daddy Dearest?
Does it even matter? I glance up to where Roman was standing, curious if he heard the same strange inflection I did, but he’s already gone, disappearing into his room.
I shift my attention back to Cobie. “Want, huh?” I challenge.
Moving a few inches away from me, she crosses her arms and gives me a pointed look. “I thought you said you were done being an ass?”
Keeping myself in check is harder than I expected.
Scrubbing my hand over my face again, I mutter, “Okay, twenty grand. Have you brainstormed anything else?”
“Well, I don’t want it to be a stuffy, old-person event, you know?”
“Not stuffy. Not for old people. What else?”
“Something a little…out of the box?” Her mouth scrunches to one side.
“I was kind of thinking like…a service auction, maybe? Where some of the younger guys and girls can volunteer their time to help older people clean their yards or do the dishes or pick up their groceries or, you know, service stuff.”
Service stuff? Sweet, naive little Cobie.
Does she not know what town she’s in? Anyone interested in attending an event for charity already has people hired to handle menial tasks like the ones she mentioned.
However, I can think of one or two things a guy would love to get serviced.
I bite back my mirth, attempting to rein in my assholery, even when it feels impossible.
Actually, it’s not a bad idea.
Now, how do I make it legit instead of, you know, prostitution-esque? A dating auction, maybe? Yeah, that could work. Highest bidder gets a date with a pretty girl. We could reach out to a few sororities. Maybe call in a few favors with—
“What? Is my idea really that bad?” Cobie prods as if my silence has a direct line to her confidence.
Blinking, I focus on her again. “Make it a dating auction. Women volunteers only. Auction winners are expected to pay for the date as well as the cost of the woman’s time.”
She frowns. “Why women only?”
“Because the guys will line up, no questions asked.”
“You sure?”
“You’ll hit your number within the first hour. Guaranteed.”
She nods as if digesting my words of wisdom. “And how do I get girls to sign up?”
That’s the tough part. Scraping my fingernails against the edge of my jaw, I consider our—her—options.
Dammit, how do I always get wrangled into these things?
“Maybe offer a grand prize or some kind of raffle entry for volunteers as a thank you for their participation,” I tell her. “It’s gotta be something good, though.” I snap my fingers. “A weekend stay at one of our houses. Maybe the Maui one?”
“What about Dad?”
“You kidding?” I laugh. “Daddy Dearest will love it. Free publicity will not only highlight his wealth without looking egotistical, but it will also show his generosity to the cause. He’ll sign off on it in a heartbeat.”
She stays quiet, though I can practically see the wheels turning in her little head. Tucking her long, honey-colored hair behind her ear, she murmurs, “You really think it would work?”
I smirk back at her, not bothering to assure her. Of course, it’ll work. Who does she think I am, anyway?
“Money man,” she notes. “Right.” Moving forward, she pulls me into a side-hug. “Thanks, big brother.”
Big brother.
The term feels foreign. Sure, Cobie has always been the baby of the family, but since she’s lived outside of Harden Heights for almost half her life, I’ve been nothing but Baby Brother for the majority of mine.
My chest swells with warmth while the last of my annoyance melts away, and I wrap my arms around her.
“Anytime, Cobes.”
And damn, do I mean it.