4. In The Flesh #2
Felicity agrees with him wholeheartedly.
“No, no. Those wounds are still fresh. And since when do you not like music anymore, Payne? You were quite the singer back in high school. Harold and I support all the youth performances. He complains every year when the annual musical comes around and doesn’t love attending, but he goes.
I’m not saying he doesn’t sleep through it, but sometimes it’s just about having warm bodies in the audience, no? ”
I stand and stuff my hands in my pockets. “As miserable as this stroll down memory lane has been, I have clients to tend to so I can spend a whack at your manor to give them extravagant weekends. Some see it as customer appreciation, I see it as blackmail to not leave my firm.”
Devon shrugs. “One thing I appreciate about you is you always shell it out straight. And if you forgot, I moved all my investments to your firm at the first of the year. I must not be a top client, or you assume since I live here, there was no need to invite me.”
I pick up my cell and slide it into my breast pocket. “I’d say since you scratched my back, I’m scratching yours, but that’s just fucking weird.”
My language doesn’t faze Felicity nearly as much as my run-in with Ruby Sinclair.
She collects the expensive-as-hell schedule for the first ever Deacon Client Appreciation Weekend and smiles.
“Not weird at all. Keep it in the family, as I always say. And this time the family is Winslet. Support your own—it’s the best way to be, especially when our little town is growing the way it is. We can’t lose sight of who we are.”
“See there? It’s not weird. And just for your information, you’re an A-Lister in my heart, Donnelly.” I slap Devon on the shoulder on my way out the door. “Felicity, thanks again. You’re the best.”
Devon raises his voice to call after me so everyone in the general vicinity can hear, “Don’t forget where you live, Payne. Felicity is going to brief me when you leave. I’m going to know everything in less than five minutes.”
I ignore that, because I have no doubt I will be the topic of conversation long after I drive off this property.
Since I took over the firm after the big event that fucked up everything—and by everything, I mean my family, our lives, and the firm—I not only recovered what was lost, I’ve grown the damn thing another forty percent.
Little did my father know that I was not completely fucking around all those years when I refused to work for him.
I watched and listened.
I learned a lot. Among many things, my old man taught me who I do not want to be. And it turns out, I’m good at more than proving people’s innocence whether it’s true or not. I can also grow a portfolio like the boss I am.
I need to think about hiring another junior asset manager.
I’ll promote Sam. He’s more than earned it.
I could use an assistant, too, but I don’t have time to manage anyone else.
Until then, this gig sucks six days of every week.
If I did it right, I’d hire more managers, manage them, and work a couple hours a day.
Sounds good ... in theory.
But spending one day a week in my own thoughts is miserable enough. I can’t imagine if I had to do it most of the day, every day.
So I’ve worked and socked away money like an untouchable cartel boss since I moved back into my childhood home.
My car is so smooth, it starts with barely a purr, but what does assault me is the satellite radio singing about kink and karma. I pause and listen to the lyrics I already know until the chorus kicks in.
“Fuck!” I scream at no one right before I hit the dashboard so hard, I have no idea if the damn radio will ever turn on again.
I throw it in drive and tear out of the parking lot.
Joy.
Who am I kidding?
I had none before Ruby rolled back into town with her curves, lush lips, and fiery soul that slays me just like it did back in the day.
Every nerve ending in my body is acutely aware that there’s not an entire country between us.
For the first time in my life, I don’t loathe my mother.
I’m jealous. She took the easy way out and numbed every bruise that my father delivered in grand fashion.
He might as well have wrapped that shit up with a big, shiny red bow.
But I would never. Never fucking ever.
I’m too smart and too much of a control freak to give into vices.
I touch the screen on my dash and press go. Dean answers on the second ring and foregoes a proper greeting. “Do you need an intervention? A bubble bath? Maybe a cathartic burn in the form of a bonfire to release your inner demons that have lived inside you for a third of your life?”
“No, no, and no. In case you forgot, I have an actual dick. A big one at that. Pretty sure I’m girthier than you.”
“Whoa. You broke the bro-code? I knew you were peeking at me in the locker room showers after practice. Either that, or you were so impressed, you couldn’t look away.
I get that from the opposite sex, just not from my so-called best friend.
Remember, I grew six inches after high school and not all of that was in height.
You don’t know the definition of girth.”
I press on the gas and make my way down the mountain. “Let me know when you’re done running your mouth so we can move on.”
“Nah. I’ve got time to run my mouth. What can I say? It’s a slow crime day in town. No cows on the loose, no stolen cars, and not one cold case. I’m batting a thousand.”
“Congratulations. I’m hungry. Meet me for lunch.”
Dean pauses before I hear an audible sigh. “I assume you don’t want to hit The Greenhouse for an overpriced wagyu burger...”
“As good as that sounds, I have meetings this afternoon. I have time for Carl’s.”
“Fuck. If I were a good friend, I’d hunt you down, pull you over, and throw your ass in jail to save you from your pathetic self.”
I take a turn in the opposite direction of the Deacon estate and head to town. “I’d like to see you try.”
“It would be fun. But what sounds like more fun is watching you walk into the diner and deal with the new wait staff. Tell me when, I’ll be there.”
“I’m on my way now.”
“Hot damn. I’m at the station. I can be there in three minutes. I don’t want to miss a moment of this.”
“See you soon.”
I disconnect the call.
But I drive in silence.
There’s no fucking way I’m turning on music.