Chapter 22 Holly #2
Griggs starts to walk away, then seems to think better of it.
He pauses, turns back, and then speaks directly to me.
“Oh, and, Holly, I thought you should know…” He smiles wickedly, and I know that whatever’s coming next is not good.
“The Undergraduate Dean over at UGA—he’s my college buddy’s uncle—he’ll be comin’ down to join me at the club in a few weeks, for a round of golf and brunch.
” My mouth falls open against my will, but I can’t seem to utter a word.
“I’ll be sure to tell him all about your son, Aidan.
I know he’ll be intrigued.” And then, the despicable man has the audacity to wink, as he calls out “Go Dawgs!” and then takes his leave of us.
As soon as Griggs walks away, I jump back, tipping over Joel’s Bloody Mary and knocking the stool to the ground with a loud thud. Every single person at the Golf House turns to look at me, but there’s just one person whose attention I need: Eli’s.
“Oh, goodness,” I cry, grabbing a napkin from the table and sopping up Joel’s drink. “I am so clumsy today.”
Just as I hoped, Judge Thacker and the rest of his foursome turn and look across the patio toward the commotion. I make eye contact with Eli and tilt my head subtly toward the restrooms.
“It’s all right,” Peter says, his voice kind. “Not even a drop landed on us.”
“I’m going to go see if I can find a dishrag,” I reply, stepping away from the table.
As I make my way inside, I’m followed by a dozen piercing stares. I can hear the talk already:
Poor Holly, she must be so exhausted. I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like to be a single mom, working night and day for all these years.
Can you believe that Holly was so drunk at work, before noon, that she knocked a stool right over?
And to think she’d consider applying to be general manager. What a lark!
Soon they’ll be gossiping about my felon son and how he got kicked out of college—or lost his scholarship and had to quit—after the Undergraduate Dean learned of crimes he committed right here at the club!
How are we ever going to stop Griggs now?
A stomach-churning defeat threatens to overwhelm me, but I shove it down deep.
When I get to the hallway, I duck into a broom closet, feigning an attempt to find dishrags.
Our Tripp comes sauntering by, utterly cool and collected.
I grab him by the arm and yank him into the closet, closing the door behind us.
“What the hell, Holly?” he whispers. “Have you lost your damn mind?”
“Yes, and it’s entirely your fault,” I spit. “What have you done?”
“Things are going great out there,” he replies, gesturing toward the bar.
“No, Eli. Things are not going great. Are we not paying you enough?” I ask him, my voice accusing. “Because it seems that you just can’t resist any opportunity to skim more cash off this deal.”
“Hold on,” he says, head going sideways. “Are you pissed about the illegal betting in your place of employment, or about the fact that I cleaned out those rich assholes’ pockets?”
“I’m pissed, Eli, because our plan has just hit a big fat dead end.
” I gesture wildly with my hands. “Why, you ask. I’ll tell you why,” I loud-whisper.
“Because you failed to follow my instructions and you beat out all three of those egotistical men.” My cheeks are flushed, my arms still flailing.
“You were supposed to play it safe,” I whisper-shriek. “What happened?”
“That huge-ass bet happened,” Eli says, shrugging.
“Just before we teed up, Griggs said we needed to make this round interesting. I tried to turn them down, but the judge kept goading me on, heckling me.” He shakes his head.
“That guy’s a real dickhead.” Then he shrugs and says casually, “So I agreed to their bet, and I won a shit-ton of money off them.”
And with those words, Eli confirms my worst suspicions: He’s using us to get to the big payouts, and he doesn’t give a damn whether it ruins our plans. I’m so furious that I want to scream. Or cry. But instead, I suck in a deep breath and then try to make him understand the huge mistake he’s made.
“Oh, you’ll pay. We all will pay!” I hiss.
“You’ve ruined any chance of Judge Thacker agreeing to let you in on their business dealings.
” I let out a frustrated groan. “The man hates to lose.” Eli shrugs in response, which only has the effect of making me angrier.
“And Griggs has already made perfectly clear that you’re not going to be invited back,” I snap.
Eli bites his lower lip, his chest deflating. Our cocky Tripp has suddenly vanished.
“Okay, I get that you’re angry,” he says, his voice pleading.
“And I’m sorry. But you have to understand—with guys like this, if I turned down a bet, I’d look weak.
Like a total loser. They’d never respect me enough to do business with me.
I did the right thing, Holly. I promise,” he begs.
“Please just let me follow through with this. Send me back out there and I can make it work.”
“The thing is,” I tell him, “I just don’t know whether we can trust you. You’ve put our entire plan—and us—at risk.”
I suddenly feel nauseous. Elijah Denvil Sweet Jr. is a con artist, and a good one. Now, instead of wasting his time on dollar bets at a pool table in Westlake, he’s hit the big leagues, and it’s all thanks to me.
Well, not anymore. My head begins to ache as I recall what I told Luisa back at that biker bar: When it comes down to it, Griggs and Eli are virtually identical.
They’re both cunning, smooth-talking, and charming as hell.
They also both happen to be criminals, and I refuse to be taken advantage of by either of them for even one more moment.
It must stop here. All our work, all the time and energy we invested, all those risks we took to set this plan into motion, they’re all for nothing. How could I have been so stupid and naive, relying on a small-town pool hustler to rescue me and my son?
With the thought of Aidan, my anger turns to sorrow.
“Just go back there and tell them you had a family emergency or something,” I tell him, holding back tears. “And then please get the hell out of here before they think too hard and realize who you really are.”
He stares at me, his mouth agape, as I walk away. I head straight to the powder room, lock myself in a stall, pull out my phone, and text Luisa.
Call me ASAP. It’s over.
She will be furious when she learns of Eli’s mistake. Meanwhile, I’m just plain defeated.
As I wait for her reply, my phone buzzes with a text from Hugh.
I was so looking forward to tomorrow night, but unfortunately I’m still stuck across the pond. Sorry to miss.
My chest sinks in on itself, literally deflating as I take in the news. I guess I hadn’t realized how much hope I’d pinned on tomorrow’s date until it slipped away. My fingers hover over the keyboard while my mind struggles to compose a breezy, nonchalant response. Then another text comes in.
By the way, I promise I’m not cyberstalking you, but must admit I did some googling and I can’t find information on your production company anywhere… What am I missing?
Hugh found out I was lying. Of course he found out. And now, instead of rescheduling our date, he’s backing out for good.
I squeeze my eyes together tightly, trying in vain to come up with any words at all that might explain what he’s “missing.”
I could tell him the truth, but he’d never want to talk to me again, not after he learns about the scheme he’s been participating in without his knowledge or consent.
I feel completely and utterly foolish. How could I have thought this ridiculous scheme with Luisa could actually work? How delusional am I?
My head sinks to my knees, and, once again, I’m falling apart in the powder room of the Dogwood Hills Club. At least this time I’m not puking.