36. Stephen
36
STEPHEN
There is one thing in life that I know to be an absolute truth.
Kira McKenna scares the shit out of me.
Thank god she was here when I needed her.
Dorothea hasn't answered her phone, not that I thought she would. Kira has been in contact with at least one their girlfriends in California, and no one has heard from her.
When Kira found the cell phone number of Dorothea's closest neighbor in Malibu – it took a few levels of internet sleuthing as well as some grease palming over the phone with the head of Dorothea's HOA – the neighbor said she saw a car drop a blonde woman off earlier in the day and then that same woman left about an hour later, but she couldn't say for sure if it was Dorothea or not.
Not exactly getting ‘sense of community’ vibes from Malibu.
After that call, Kira was on hold with MasterCard pretending to be Dorothea so she could get a readout of her most recent transactions. I don't even have my own social security number memorized, so watching Kira rattle off the information the operator needed was seriously impressive.
She has the call on speaker while we listen to the elevator hold music, and I can see a notification pop up on her phone.
"It's my home security system!" she says, tapping the banner. The app opens and with a few presses, Kira's phone shows a slightly blurry security camera video of my girl and a Louis Vuitton bag on Kira's doorstep.
"Jesus, she flew to Los Angeles and then San Francisco all in one day? She must have really wanted to get away from you," Kira says. I don't know if she's joking, but I force out a laugh anyway.
"She's alive. That's a good sign," I say. Step one, done. Now it's time to figure out what step two is.
"Okay, now onto step two," Kira says. She figured it out a lot quicker than I could have. "We need to get you on a plane to San Francisco and to my house. You can do your big love proclamation- do it in my living room so I can watch on my cameras- and then you can take her to a hotel and fuck the stupid out of her. And I mean it, get a hotel. No sex in my house. Maybe the bathroom if you really can't wait, but not my bed. I swear to god, Stephen, if you get your country boy cum on my bed-"
"Jesus Christ, Kira!" I interrupt, my eyes going wide. The woman has no filter. If I let her keep going, she'll no doubt say something worse than 'country boy cum', so I go for the redirect. "I sort of already did the love proclamation thing. Last night, after we-"
"Got your country boy cum on your own bed?"
"I think that's why she ran. I mean I knew she was going to try. That's why I was being so careful about what I did and said. I didn't want to scare her off. I thought if I had a chance to be around when she bolted this time, I could change the outcome. Whatever that meant." I shrug.
"You told her you loved her after sex? That's a rookie move, Hudson," she says without a hint of sympathy.
"I know, I know," I say, running a hand over the back of my neck. "That's why I think I need to give her time."
Kira opens her mouth to interrupt me, but I hold a hand up between us.
"I'm going to go after her this time, Kira. I swear. I don't want to live without her anymore, and if I have the smallest chance in hell of making her mine, I'm taking it. But you know Dottie. She needs to process things her own way. I think she might need a day or two to just sit with everything before she's even remotely receptive to anything I might say."
"Ugh, I hate how right you are. I'm too impatient for this crap. You promise you're gonna get her back?" she asks, holding out a pinky to me.
"I promise I'm gonna try." I link my pinky with hers and we shake on it .
"Besides," I continue. "There's something I need to talk Ivy about before I go."
"Oh my god, Ivy Crowe? I haven't seen her in years! Is she still hopelessly in love with your sister?" Kira asks. Uhhh…Ivy? In love with my sister?
Shit. That makes sense. But I don't have the bandwidth to dissect all that right now.
"Okay I'm gonna put a pin in that thought, but we are most definitely coming back to that later," I say. Kira snickers, and then I tell her about the tattoo Ivy and I discussed at my parent's house. She squeals and agrees that I absolutely must do it before I go to see Dorothea.
Neither of us acknowledges that if she rejects me, the tattoo will be something to remember her by instead of a symbol of my feelings for her. But that, like my sister and Ivy, is a problem for another day.
I text Ivy, and Operation My Dorothea moves right along into stage two.
The next day, Ivy and Delilah come up to McKenna Mountain at Kira's insistence–I'm pretty sure she just wanted to see me squirm under Ivy's needle. Ivy gets herself set up in the kitchen, and when she's ready, I lie back on the table without a shirt and let her do her work.
Kira, Dean, their dad's and my sister all watch as Ivy works. Jay and Keith swoon and call me a hopeless romantic. Kira, Dean, and Delilah just laugh and poke fun every time I wince, which unfortunately happens more than I'd like to admit. What can I say? I have sensitive nipples, and they don't particularly enjoy having a stabby needle so close to them.
When it's all finished, Ivy wraps me up with some sort of special plastic wrap and leaves me with care instructions for my new tattoo and her well wishes for whatever happens when I get to California. Delilah gives me a hug, careful not to fuck with the inked-up spot on my chest.
"Don't screw this up with her. I've always wanted Dottie to be my sister for real," she says as we hug, and I roll my eyes.
"Thanks for the confidence boost, Delilah. I knew I could count on you."
She leaves me with a pat on the back, and then Kira and I sit down at the table and move on to stage three.
"Alright," she says, looking up at me from over her iPad. "I've got you booked on a flight to San Francisco leaving tomorrow morning. It'll give you plenty of time to grab some clothes and get your dog settled with your parents. Then, Dean will drive you to the airport before he reports back to the training facility in Knoxville for practice. You'll fly to the city and check into the room I booked for you at the Fairmont. Hopefully, you'll go to my house and Dottie girl will realize what a fucking idiot she is and tell you she loves you too and then you two can go back to the hotel and have dreamy makeup sex all night long and then you'll live happily ever after."
"And if she doesn't want to live happily ever after with me?" I ask, and Kira rolls her eyes .
"Not a likely scenario. But if so, at least the Fairmont is a nice place to eat your feelings. I suggest ordering the truffle fries and limoncello tiramisu from room service to stuff your face while you cry."
Somehow, I don't think fried potatoes and a bastardized Italian dessert will be enough of a consolation prize if this all goes south, but I appreciate Kira's consideration regardless.
"I feel bad asking, Kira, but there's one other thing that I was wondering if you could help me with," I say, rubbing a hand over the back of my neck. I took what my dad said yesterday to heart, to stop worrying about how he'll be able to retire if I don't take over Hudson Family Construction for him. I haven't been able to get it out of my head, regardless. And if I do get Dorothea back, I want to have something to offer her.
"What is it?" Kira asks, and I give her the quick version of the conversation I had with Dad, and the idea that's been brewing in my brain ever since. She listens intently, and when I'm finished, she doesn't say a word. Just picks up her phone and starts tapping away. A moment passes, and then her phone dings with an incoming message.
"Alright, quick shift of plans, Hudson. You've got a meeting with a friend of mine tomorrow after your flight gets in." She eyes me up and down, then wrinkles her nose at me. "Any chance you own a suit?"
I don't, in fact, own a suit. I haven't found myself in need of one since prom night. Evidently, the man I'm meeting with is very casual despite an affinity to always be dressed in an expensive suit, but the bar I agreed to meet him at has a strict dress code that I need to adhere to. Thankfully, Jay McKenna and I have similar builds, and he let me borrow a pair of slacks and a sports coat.
Kira spent the night helping me iron out some details in the makeshift business plan I'd crafted in my head. She might be loud and scary, but she's truly brilliant, and she knows San Francisco, which was integral in some of the finer points of what I want to present to a potential investor. I make a mental note to buy her one hell of a Christmas present, as well as dedicate a speech to the wonder that is Kira McKenna at my wedding.
If, of course, Dorothea ever decides to marry me. I'll have to wait a while to find out, because even if she does agree to be with me, I won't be proposing until I know for sure that she won't run.
I land in San Francisco and change into Jay's suit in an airport bathroom. When a car with no driver pulled up to drive me into the city, I realized I'm truly not in Kansas (or Tennessee, as it were) anymore. The self-driving car drops me in front of an unassuming white building with a blank black awning nestled on a steep hill somewhere in downtown San Francisco. I knock on the door, because even though it's a bar, this place isn't open to the public. A small slat at eye level slides to the left, just like out of a movie, and the person on the other side looks at me through the small hole.
"Uhh, Stephen Hudson. I'm here for a meeting." I say, though it comes out sounding more like a question. The eyes stare, unblinking.
"Right," I clear my throat, then say the password Kira gave me before I left. "The banshee haunts the library."
My cheeks turn red with embarrassment. Who comes up with this shit?
Fucking rich people, man.
The password does the trick, and the door swings open, revealing a woman dressed in all white on the other side.
"Follow me, Mr. Hudson."
I step inside, and the door seems to slam shut behind me all on its own. It's dark as hell in here, with only some janky, Great Depression-looking sconces emitting orange light on the walls. I fear if I look up, the ceiling might be lined with human skulls. This place gives off real Murder House vibes. I follow her down the hall and briefly wonder if this was all some sort of ruse to sell me into a human trafficking ring when she pushes through a wall.
On the other side is another dimly lit room, though this one is brighter than the hallway of death. There are a few rich, mahogany leather booths lining three of the walls, the third occupied by a dark, wood bar. There are only a few people here, including the host I'm following and the middle-aged man behind the bar pouring from an unmarked label of dark liquid.
The woman leads me to the far corner where a man sits, leaning against the back of the booth, one arm slung over the edge and the other lifting a tumbler of liquor to his mouth.
"Mr. Adler, Mr. Hudson for you," the host says as we approach. The man smiles as he stands.
"Lydia, how many times do I have to tell you, call me James," he says, and even in the dark room, I can see Lydia's blush. I give the man–James, I guess–a once over. He's tall as hell, at least a few inches taller than me. His black suit and black shirt look like they almost mold to his skin, and he flashes a million-dollar smile when he reaches his hand out for me to shake.
As I shake his hand, I start to understand Lydia’s blush. This guy is a charmer for sure. Throw a few more of those mega-watt smiles my way and I could see myself developing a crush on him.
"Have a seat," he says after we've shaken hands. I slide into the booth across from him, and a man in all white–the uniform here, I suppose–comes over and takes our drink order. Bourbon for me and some kind of scotch I've never heard of before my counterpart.
"Thank you for meeting me, Mr. Adler," I say as the server retreats.
"It's James, please. And I have to be honest, I didn't have much of a choice. I don't typically take meetings this time of the year, especially not with strangers. But, as I'm sure you know, Kira McKenna is not someone a person can easily deny," he smirks, and I relax a little. I know as well as he does that he doesn't want to be here, but at least he can joke about it.
"Yeah, I grew up with Kira, and I don't think she's ever heard the word no. If she has, she sure as hell never listened."
James chuckles and shakes his head as the server returns with our drinks. James holds up his glass, and we clink with a cheers before each taking a sip.
"Well James, I don't want to waste your time, so allow me to get right into it. My father owns a midsize construction company in Fox Hole, Tennessee. Over the last thirty years, the company has completed projects all over Tennessee, Kentucky, Georgia, and parts of North Carolina. Residential, commercial, some industrial. I've worked with him over the last five years as essentially a business partner, in every role, both on sites and in the office.
I have two bachelor’s degrees from the University of Knoxville in Construction Management and Sociology, and I'm at a point in my life and my career where I'm ready to retire my father and expand the business. I want to move beyond land development deals in the south and focus Hudson Family Construction on the bigger picture. Urban planning; developing underutilized resources in cities like Los Angeles and here in San Francisco to create affordable housing and grocery stores in food deserts. Shelter for the unhoused populations, medical centers, and other resources for underprivileged communities. I have a wealth of knowledge and a passion for the work."
I pull my tablet out of my bag and open it to the files outlining a more detailed version of what I just said, including the financials and projections Kira and I came up with. I slide it across the table, and James looks at it but doesn't take it.
"And what do you need me for?" he asks, and a little part of me dies inside. I'm not too proud to beg, but I was hoping he wouldn't make me be so outright.
"Money. The only thing I find myself lacking is funding. I spoke with Kira and she mentioned that you might be in a place where you're looking for investment opportunities."
James holds up a hand, and I shrink a little further into my seat.
"I'm gonna stop you right there. You clearly put a lot of thought and work into this. You've got a good story, and I'm sure if I investigated you and your dad's business, I'd find that you were a solid credit risk. You said he's been at it for thirty years? Any bank worth its salt would be willing to give you a loan unless you've got a shady history you haven't mentioned. So don't bullshit me, Stephen. I know you need money. I asked why you need me. "
This dude does not fuck around. I respect that.
I straighten in my seat, and then take a deep breath.
"Honestly? I need your good favor. I'm in love with someone I think you know. Dottie Lynn Hart?" I forgo using her full name, since I know I'm the only person who calls her Dorothea. James nods, so I continue. "I've loved Dottie for as long as I can remember. Since before I knew what loving another person meant. She is my everything. She is my heart and my soul. She is the reason I wake up in the morning. I'm on a mission right now to make her see that, to hopefully decide that she might love me back, and I want to have something to offer her. I want to show her that I'm more than just that small town she left behind once upon a time. That I'm willing to do anything to be with her, provide for her, that I'll make a home for her wherever she is. I wasn't bullshitting you with my business plan or my desire to see my father retire. That's all true, but you're right. I could go to a bank and get a business loan. My dad has savings, he could retire without me. But that's not good enough. I need Dottie – Dorothea – I need her to know that I'm all in. I'm willing to fully integrate myself into her life, whatever that looks like. I'm willing to get on my hands and knees and beg her best friend's fiancé for money so that I can give her the life she deserves. That's why I need you, James."
James, to his credit, let's me rant like a mad man without a second glance. Though I do wish I could see something in his face so I could know if this was working or not.
A beat passes, then another. I'm tempted to wave a hand in front of the man's face to check his reflexes, but he leans forward and puts his elbows on the table. He plops his chin into his hands and sighs .
"Stephen Hudson, you are lucky you met me today and not a year ago. Love has made me so soft," he says, his eyes glazing over. I’m sure he has his own woman on his mind and not mine, but if it's got him feeling happy and gooey, I'll lean into it.
"I think that love has the tendency to turn even the toughest people into piles of mush," I say, lifting my forgotten bourbon and taking a sip. James mimics me, sipping from his own glass. Then, he reaches to the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a checkbook and a very fancy looking pen. I watch, holding my breath as he scribbles on a check and tears it from the book, flipping it over and sliding it across the table to me.
"Seriously?" I gasp in disbelief as I pick up the check. "Is this for real?"
"The check? No." James snorts. I flip it over and see that he's written a check for five dollars with the words 'To Love's Eternal Glory' in the memo line, like in that one episode of The Office .
"The check is symbolic, but the sentiment is real. I'll give you the loan. We can meet in the new year, iron out the details, and have the paperwork drawn up."
I take in a deep breath, and then shake my head in disbelief.
"Thank you, Mr. Adler. James. Seriously. I cannot thank you enough," I say. James leans in, giving me a stern look.
"Listen to me. I want to like you, and I think I will. But let me tell you one thing right now. Dottie is very important to my Georgie, and that makes her very important to me. If you ever, ever hurt her, I will kill you. I won't hire someone; I will personally kill you myself, and I’ll enjoy doing it. Do you understand?"
I realize he's trying to instill the fear of god in me like a protective father, but all I can feel is grateful. Grateful that my Dorothea has this incredible family that she's created for herself. One that is willing to rally around her and lift her up. I hope with everything in me that I'll get the chance to be a part of it.
"I can promise you that that won't happen James. And if it ever does, I will hand you the gun myself," I say, and he smiles. We shake hands, and he signals to the server to bring us another round of drinks.
"So now that that's out of the way, Kira gave me the rundown on the whole situation. Dottie's holed up at Kira's place?"
"Yep. As far as I know, she hasn't left," I say as the serve sets a fresh bourbon down in front of me.
"And you're planning to go over there to talk to her?"
"That's the plan."
James leans back and slings his arm over the back of the booth, humming.
"You know," he says, a wicked hint to his tone "I've got this birthday party for my fiancée coming up…"