Chapter 7
Garrett
I step out of the bar and run a hand through my hair. That is Angela Hutton? Over the years, I built an image of the Hutton family and in one drunken tirade, she obliterated everything I wanted to believe about them.
Not only did she show up an hour early, but she blamed me for being late.
Loudly. While sitting there with not one, but two men while Nick the Wonderful is on another continent, holding her hand through the hard parts.
Even I smiled when I read his text, and according to my sister, I’m a cold bastard without a heart.
I have no room for cheaters. None. Maybe those guys were Angela’s friends…but something says they’re closer than that.
The entire interaction is just more proof that people suck. We’re selfish, self-righteous, and willing to screw each other over to get what we want. The older I get, the more it seems like my family is the last bastion of goodness in this world. Everyone else is in a race to the bottom.
I thought the Huttons were better than that, with their entire business model based on the wellbeing of their clients, charity, and giving back to the community.
I thought wrong.
Angela Hutton is loud. And rude. She doesn’t have a censor and what kind of woman hangs out with two men when her boyfriend’s text is sweet enough to touch someone as cynical as me? She’s no better than the Melindas of the world and that truth shatters my last shred of hope for humanity at large.
With a shake of my head, I stride through the parking lot, lower myself into my car, and power on my phone. Who tells a stranger her college professor said she has a stripper name?
My mind conjures up an image of Angela in sky-high fuck-me heels, that fiery hair spilling over her tits as she spirals and writhes around a pole…
They say I’m an angel, imaginary her whispers.
“If only you weren’t a devil in real life.” I stare at the entrance to the bar, turning the phone over in my hands.
What will she think when she walks into our meeting tomorrow and I’m the guy waiting for her? Will she remember what she said to me tonight? Will she remember calling me shady and slimy? Will she remember telling me how much she’s dreading the whole thing?
And here I thought talking to someone interested in giving you a ton of money to save your business was a good thing.
I could have told her who I was. Maybe I should have.
But she was either too drunk or too awful to care.
And if it’s the latter, I’ll have the upper hand walking into tomorrow’s meeting.
Until fifteen minutes ago, I was willing to go the extra mile to ensure The Hutton Hotel lives a long and happy life.
Now? After whatever that was? I’m not sure where I stand.
I won’t do her dirty, but…despite the fond memories I have of the place, if that’s the kind of person making decisions, I’ll need a lot of convincing before I loan them millions of dollars.
My phone comes on and I tap the map icon to direct me back to the hotel, ignoring the staggering number of waiting texts.
Whatever has people that interested in talking to me can wait until I’m in my room.
It can’t be good news and I’m not dealing with a crisis from my car.
Not after what just happened in that bar with its stupid name.
The Pact? What kind of asshole calls a bar The Pact?
Resting my phone on my knee, I start the engine and navigate out of the parking lot. As much as I want to put the conversation out of my head, I keep chewing it over.
Slimy?
Shady?
She doesn’t know anything about me.
She’s the one whose business is in a situation where she needs to accept meetings with shady guys like me. And to think, I fought Branson to make sure he didn’t give the job to Jordan Clement. Because he’s shady. He’s slimy. I just happen to be good at making deals.
And now? Maybe I won’t care so much about making the deal fair to her. That entire interaction was like watching a childhood hero kick a puppy. Years of good faith ruined.
Tension throbs in my jaw, my neck, my shoulders, and I drum my fingers against the steering wheel. Negative thoughts twist and spiral, feeding my frustration until I realize I’ve just been driving and have no idea where I am.
Fuck! I slap the dash, jaw clenching as I grind my teeth together.
Your anger isn’t appropriate to the situation. The words arrive like a friend with unwelcome—though accurate—advice.
I exhale sharply as I pull into a parking lot and drop my head into my hands.
Outside my windshield, the ocean stretches for miles, glittering in the evening sun.
With a sigh, I climb out of the car and lean against the hood, taking deep breaths of fresh air, closing my eyes as the breeze brushes my temples.
Eager for a distraction, I check my messages, going immediately for the family chat, which apparently blew up while Dirty Angel had my phone.
I scroll until I come to an image of Melinda, sitting on the lap of her personal trainer, biting his lower lip.
My jaw drops and I laugh out loud. Guess I was right about her cheating on me.
Go figure she shared the news in the most dramatic fashion.
I read through the messages, chuckling as my brother, sister, and cousins let her have it. In a world intent on going bad, they never fail to remind me what good looks like. When I reach the end of the conversation, I immediately start a new chat with my family, minus The Future Mrs. Cooper.
Well that happened.
Charlie
Holy shit, Bear. I was worried. You never take that long to reply.
Connor
You okay?
Brennan
Good riddance is what I say
Lily
I’m so sorry!
I saw it coming. And it’s not like she was anything more than a distraction
Charlie
Still sucks. Hate it for you.
Connor
I never liked her, but your whole ‘distraction’ thing is only going to create more of these situations
Lily
Be nice!
Connor
I am being nice. It’s okay to say bad things about bad people and it’s double okay to worry about my brother’s health and wellbeing
Brennan
How’s it going in FLA?
Oh, it’s going…
Charlie
Uh-oh. Sounds ominous
Lily
Everything okay?
I’ll just say it’s been a crazy few hours. For starters, I’m texting you on a brand-new phone.
Brennan
But you just got a new phone.
And now I have an even newer phone. Without the shattered screen. Like I said…rough start.
Charlie
Guess that means it can only get better from here.
You sound just like Mom
Connor
Like that’s a bad thing
I grin, then click out of the conversation, skip over a message from Melinda, and open the thread from Angela because how dare she blame me for being late.
I didn’t see her text because my phone was turned off, just like she didn’t see mine because hers was turned off.
Seems to me either no one’s at fault or we’re both at fault, but she has no leg to stand on, blaming me.
Though, out of context, my one-word responses seem curt, clipped, and downright rude. Sure, I was mostly naked as I sent them, but she doesn’t know that.
If I was on the receiving end of that conversation, I wouldn’t have the best impression of me either. Shaking my head, I lock the screen and shove the phone into my pocket.
This is why I don’t mess with relationship stuff. Work is easier. Safer.
Although this particular relationship is also work and I’m not exactly killing it. But that’s not my fault. Angela blew everything up by being shitfaced and rude. Maybe if she’d let me get a word in edgewise, we could have figured everything out and had a good laugh while I was still at the bar.
Right, just me, her, and the two men she’s cheating on Nick the Wonderful with.
Fuck me.
I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.