Chapter 16 Grady
GRADY
On Sunday afternoon, The Pelican was empty except for a few tables lingering after church and an old man in the corner booth eating clam chowder. I’d come in for lunch, needing somewhere to go where my thoughts were less loud. Unfortunately, even my favorite bar couldn’t keep my thoughts at bay.
Outside, rain fell steadily, the dreariness of the day matching my mood perfectly. I sat at the bar, watching Hunter restocking bottles, wiping down surfaces and cutting limes into wedges.
We’re not your family.
I couldn’t stop hearing it. Esme’s voice, tight and raw.
We’re not your family.
That had hurt more than anything else she’d said.
Because I thought of her and the kids as family.
Every school recital, science project nights, Friday evenings watching movies on the couch?
Was that not how a family behaved? But maybe I’d been fooling myself to believe she felt the same way about me.
I picked up my beer. The condensation had made a ring on the bar. I traced it with the tip of a finger, inner dialogue with myself running through my mind, arguing with myself.
She told you to leave. She’s leaving. This is what she wants.
This isn’t what she wants. You know her. She doesn’t want to leave everything and everyone she loves.
Then why won’t she let me help? Why has money driven her even further away?
Because she’s scared. Because she thinks she doesn’t deserve help from anyone. Even you. And who are you to decide what she deserves or wants? Who are you to tell her what to do? She’s a grown woman, capable of making her own decisions, even if it isn’t what you want.
I should at least tell her how I feel. See if that makes any difference. I can’t just let her go without a fight.
What kind of man are you? A bully like your father? Just because you want something, it should happen?
“Hey, man, you okay?”
I looked up. Hunter leaned against the back bar, arms crossed, with a towel over one shoulder. He had an intensity about him, always watchful as if cataloging what he saw to ponder later.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“You sure? Wanna talk? That’s what bartenders are for.”
I didn’t know Hunter well. Other than here at the bar, I hadn’t hung out with him. But I found myself longing to talk to someone besides myself. “I’m nursing a broken heart.”
“That right? Esme?”
“Yeah, how did you know?”
“No offense, but the way you two feel about each other is pretty obvious, even to a crusty old grump like me. Did something happen between you?”
“It’s kind of complicated.”
“Complicated is right down my alley.”
“Okay, well, here goes then, if you really want to know.” Maybe because he was a stranger, or close enough to one that it all just tumbled out of my mouth.
But I told him who I really was, and about the inheritance and the twenty million dollars I’d not known about.
Robbie’s offer from USC that Esme couldn’t afford.
Madison hiding her bleeding toe because at six years old she knew her mother couldn’t afford to get her new ones.
And finally, offering to help financially.
“She freaked out, like I’d insulted her.
Then she told me she was moving to Seattle.
Back to her parents who have been nothing but critical of her decisions for years.
Away from me, who loves her just as she is. ”
“Does she know how you feel about her, though? Other than that you love her kids and want to help?”
“I was planning on telling her, but she sent me away before I could.”
My phone rang from inside my jacket pocket. “Here Comes the Sun.” Esme. The song that had made my heart jump for three years now made my stomach drop. I let it play through to voicemail. I couldn’t pick up. If I heard her voice, I’d say everything, and she’d asked me to stay away.
Hunter picked up a glass and started polishing it, his eyes on his hands. “I’m no expert on romance, trust me. I’ve had my own share of heartbreak. Frankly, women baffle me. Her reaction, though, makes sense.”
“How so?”
“She feels badly about herself. You swooping in with all the answers, offering money, just makes it worse. She’s proud. I get that.”
I thought about that for a moment. A sick feeling settled in my stomach.
This was what my father had done. Swoop in and offer something in exchange for what he wanted.
“My dad was like that. He assumed he knew all the answers to everything and used money and power to get what he wanted. Maybe I’m more like him than I care to admit. ”
“But that’s not what this was. You didn’t use money as leverage to get her into your bed or otherwise.”
“It would kill me if she thought I’d use the money to buy her. That’s my father’s playbook.”
No truer thing had ever been said. My father had expected everyone to fall at his feet and do whatever he wanted because he had power and money.
Somehow his success had given him the nerve to take whatever he wished, with or without permission.
He saw what he wanted and he snatched it, whether it be a deal, a career, or a woman.
It didn’t matter if they said no. It didn’t matter if they tried to get away.
He decided he knew what was best and he took it.
A man who didn’t understand the word no.
When I was eight years old, my father belonged to a private club in West Hollywood.
He took me there sometimes on Saturday afternoons when my mother was busy.
I was supposed to stay quiet while he took meetings at his table in the corner.
A lot of the servers were young and pretty, most of them aspiring actresses. My father knew all their names.
One afternoon, a slender blonde with a gap between her front teeth brought him the wrong drink.
When he pointed it out, she was immediately flustered and apologetic.
My father leaned back in his chair and smiled.
That big, warm Sean Hale smile that made everyone in a room feel like they were the only person in it.
“Don’t worry about it, Alice. Happens to everyone.” Then he tilted his head, studying her. “You’re an actress, right? I’ve seen you in here. Have to say, you’ve got something. Why don’t you come by my office next week? We’ll chat about your career.”
Her whole face lit up. She thanked him three times. I remember thinking my dad was the nicest man in the world. Except to his wife and children, of course.
“But we’ll have to do something about your teeth,” my father had said.
“That’ll cost money I don’t have,” Alice had said.
“We can work something out.”
It was during the trial that the memory had resurfaced.
I’d been sitting in my apartment, reading the third victim’s statement.
Alice Jones had described a private club in West Hollywood where she’d worked as a server.
A powerful Hollywood producer had told her she had something special and invited her to his office.
She described his smile. She described feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.
Then she described what he did to her when she arrived at his office.
I’d barely made it to the bathroom before I was sick.
Now, feeling that same queasiness in my stomach, I picked up my beer, then set it down.
“Is that why you’re here in Willet Cove?” Hunter asked. “You wanted to escape your old life?”
“That’s right.” I cocked my head to the side, studying him. “You too?”
“Pretty darn close.”
The front door opened, and Vance Prescott walked in and scanned the room, spotted us, and came straight to the bar without breaking stride. He sat down on the stool next to mine.
“Hey,” Vance said, nudging my shoulder. “You okay?”
“Not really,” I said.
“I figured as much. I think we need to open a bottle of wine and talk,” Vance said. “If you’d like to.”
“Yeah, sure,” I said. “I just told Hunter my sad story.”
“You have any decent reds open?” Vance asked Hunter.
“No, but I can open something. In fact, I’ll join you. I’m off in a few minutes.”
“Great,” Vance said. “Should we grab a booth? Grady, you in?”
“Yeah, sure,” I said.
“I’ll open our bottle and be with you in a minute,” Hunter said.
Vance and I settled into a booth, each taking a side. He splayed his hands on the tabletop. “So, how’s it going? Anything you want to talk about?”
I had to laugh. “I’m sure you already know everything.”
“I do. And I’m here for you, if you need me.”
“Did you come looking for me?” I asked.
“Hunter texted you were here. Said you looked like you could use a friend.”
“Yeah, well, he was right.”
Hunter arrived with the bottle of wine, a giant plate of fries and three glasses. I’d not yet finished my beer, but set it aside as Hunter poured us each a modest glass.
“First off, I want to tell you that, no matter who your father is, you’re our friend,” Vance said.
“I can understand why you wanted to start over, without anyone knowing about your past. But I can say, with utmost sincerity, it doesn’t matter to me.
I know who you are. Your good heart is obvious for everyone to see. ”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“As far as what’s going on between you and Esme—do you want to talk about it?” Vance asked.
“I’m worried she’ll think I’m like my father. Demanding she give herself to me for money.”
This was the thing I hadn’t said to anyone. The thing underneath everything else.
“My father never took no for an answer.” I turned the glass in my hand. “That was his whole thing. He decided what he wanted, and he went after it, and, if someone said no, he found a way around it. Charm. Money. Power. Whatever it took. I don’t want her to feel that way.”
Vance leaned back. “It’s not the same, man. I’m sorry, but it’s not.”
“Isn’t it? She told me to leave. She said we’re not family. She’s made the decision to move back to Seattle. And I’m sitting here thinking I know better.”
“You’re not thinking you know better,” Hunter said. “You love her.”
I stared at the table.
“It may take the rest of your life to understand that you are not your father,” Hunter said. “It’s something that’s going to come up time and again for you. But you have to push through those feelings or you’re going to wreck everything, again and again.”
The way he said it made me think he had experienced something similar.
“Come to the Halloween party at Alex and Gillian’s,” Vance said. “Get her alone. Tell her you love her.”
“Give her the chance to say yes,” Hunter said.
“What if she doesn’t?” I asked.
“Then you’ll figure out what to do next,” Vance said. “But you’ve got to give it a shot.”
I nodded. “I’ll go to the party.”
Vance lifted his glass. “Good. It’s time. You and Esme deserve happiness.”