Bad Behavior (17 page)

“Did she tell you Grant comes from a Mafia family?”

Alex nodded. “She did. She
and
Grant told me how he’s on parole, just like her.”

“Then why the hell did you hire him? Are
all
your employees felons?”

Alex’s jaw flexed, and he glanced over to see the governor’s reaction to Will’s accusations, but Tom looked placid as always. Turning back to Will, Alex insisted, “I hired Grant because Sophie loves him and trusts him. And I trust
her
. Maybe you should give it a try someday.”

“How can I trust her when she dumped her career down the tubes, all for one man? For—for…” Will glared at Ben “…for your father! He purposely ruined my daughter’s life. Did you know that?”

Seeing the devastated expression on Ben’s face, Alex warned, “Will.”

“I’m sorry,” Ben broke in, trying not to cry. Perhaps this had been a bad idea. “I’m sorry for what my dad did. But if you could just give my uncle another chance—please, he needs this job.”

Suddenly Ben felt a set of strong hands clasping his shoulders, and he looked behind him to find his uncle, looking pale and upset. The protection agent’s hand snaked toward his holster.

“Ben, what’re you doing?” Grant asked.

“He’s trying to convince me you don’t work for the Barberis,” Will retorted snidely.

Grant nervously looked at Will. “I don’t. I don’t want anything to do with them. But I know you’ll never believe me.” He clenched his teeth and nodded at the governor. “Governor Grogan.” Then he turned to his boss. “Mr. Remington, um, I think I have to quit, sir. I’m sorry for letting you down, but I can’t do this. I should’ve known better than to try something like this.”

Ben whipped around to face his uncle. “But you’ll go back to prison if you don’t have a job!”

“I’ll find something.”

“What if you can’t?” Ben pleaded.

“I’ll find something,” Grant repeated, trying to feign confidence. To his horror, Ben burst into tears. Drawing his nephew into him, Grant asked, “What is it, buddy?”

“Don’t leave,” Ben whimpered, burying his face in his uncle’s chest as Grant patted his back, not knowing what else to do.

“Don’t you leave me too,” Ben cried.

Stunned, Grant looked up at the three powerful men, all of whom wore helpless, uncomfortable expressions.

“You gotta sing. You can’t lose this job,” Ben begged.

Clearing his throat, Grant asked, “Would you excuse us for a moment, gentlemen?” When all three nodded, Grant led his nephew back to the side room.

After they were out of earshot, the governor looked at Will. “What was that kid saying? Are you mixed up with the Mafia, Will?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“If they’re threatening you, I can protect you,” Tom promised.

“Really?” Will exploded. “Just like you protected Sophie from that scumbag Logan Barberi? That’s Madsen’s brother, by the way, in case you didn’t catch that. My daughter’s now dating the brother of the man who sent her to prison. And there’s fucking nothing I can do about it. The only thing I can do is keep my mouth shut and pray that my baby stays safe from those monsters.”

Inside the dressing room, Grant rubbed his hand over Ben’s back. “I’m so sorry you lost your dad,” he murmured soothingly. The boy seemed inconsolable. Months of pent-up grief came pouring out of him, and Grant had no idea what to do. “Listen, I’m sure I’ll find another job, Ben.”

“No, you w-w-won’t,” he sobbed. “And then your mean PO will throw you b-b-back inside.”

Grant suppressed a grin. Jerry had sure made an impression on his nephew. He suddenly noticed he didn’t feel nervous anymore, just concerned for Ben. Screw Will Taylor—he’d already come between him and Sophie too many times, and he didn’t want the man to upset his nephew too.

“Would it help if I tried to keep my job?” he asked Ben.

Ben immediately looked up to stare at his uncle with glistening eyes. Sniffing, he nodded vehemently. “You’ll sing?”

“I’ll try, okay?” Grant forced a smile. “It’s just like fifty push-ups. I’ll take one at a time and do my best.”

Just then the piano player, Andy, stuck his head in the room. “Boss told me we gotta get started. You ready?”

Grant took a deep breath, feeling butterflies dive-bombing his stomach. He glanced at Ben, then looked back at Andy. “Let’s do it.”

Patting Ben’s shoulder, Grant asked, “Can you stay? It’d be nice to see at least one friendly face in the crowd.”

Ben nodded and watched his uncle join the piano guy to approach the stage. He looked like he was walking to the gallows.

The bar was already loud and busy, and most patrons didn’t notice the two men settling themselves onstage. But then Andy played a few riffs on the piano, and a hush fell over the room.

Leaning against the wall right outside the dressing room, Ben was surprised when a waiter approached him. “Mr. Remington would like you to join him at his table,” he informed him, gesturing to a chair next to the hotelier. Ben bit his lip and nodded, walking over to sit next to his uncle’s boss.

As Andy continued playing the piano, Grant plastered on a fake smile and grabbed hold of the microphone. The solid wooden stage beneath his feet made him long for the gentle rocking of Roger’s ship, and the dark interior of the bar felt quite different from the sunshine of the river.
It’s the same song to start,
he told himself, running his tongue over his suddenly dry lips.
You can do this.

“Welcome, everyone!” he boomed into the microphone, feeling encouraged when his voice came out clear and strong. “Welcome to Capone’s Spirits, the best of Old Chicago!” A wall of exhilarating noise bounced back to him with a smattering of applause, hoots, and cheers.

Grant swept his eyes across the room, watching people happily clink their glasses and continue chattering away. His gaze landed on a pair of light-blue eyes that stared at him excitedly. Refusing to look at the men next to Ben, Grant focused solely on his nephew as he gestured to the piano. “Andy Beecham on the piano, folks! And I’m Mick Saylor, here to take you back to a special time in our city’s history. Have a great time tonight, and remember the wise words of Dean Martin: ‘You’re not drunk if you can lie on the floor without holding on.’”

Grant found the crowd’s rousing laughter invigorating. Andy began pounding out the familiar intro to
My Kind of Town
and Grant closed his eyes for a second, envisioning his sexy Sophie serving drinks on the deck below while he brought home a cruise full of happy passengers.

As he began singing, his smile morphed from plastic to genuine. His velvety voice cradled and embraced each note, and the audience knew they were in good hands. Several of the women in attendance were absolutely riveted, believing the song was directed right at them. Who was this crooning, dark-haired hunk?

Feeling the energy of the evening, Grant cruised through
Mack the Knife
and several other songs before he suddenly realized he and Andy were starting their sixth song—the last in the set. Where the hell had the time gone? Grant was so absorbed in connecting with the song and the audience that time had become fluid and unimportant. He never wanted this fun to end, and he exchanged a goofy grin with his nephew, who basked in the glory of his uncle’s success, oblivious to the high-powered men who surrounded him.

A curious transformation was also underway for Will Taylor. He couldn’t believe he was actually
enjoying
the performance by his daughter’s mobster boyfriend. Madsen was certainly a charmer. He performed each song with panache and skill, yet also possessed a sense of humility and vulnerability that made him instantly likeable. Will found himself inexplicably drawn to Grant, and he didn’t like it one bit.

As Andy began the rolling melody of their sixth song, Grant announced, “This song is for Bonnie.” Then he began
I’ve Got You Under My Skin
.

In his mind he pictured Sophie’s big brown eyes, creamy-smooth complexion, tousled blond hair, and striking figure. He was surrounded by warmth as he considered her genuine caring for him and for others. He loved her keen intelligence, her clever sense of humor, her authentic hope in the world. She’d nestled her way under his skin, into his heart—deep inside him—and now he couldn’t function without her. He could never lose her. Grant belted out the last stanza, thoroughly warmed by images of his Bonnie.

“We’re taking a break now, folks!” Grant said as the last notes faded away. Did he actually hear groans of disappointment? He looked over at the piano, and Andy winked at him. It had been quite an auspicious beginning.

As background music started up again over the speakers, Grant heard his boss calling, gesturing him over to their table. Sneaking a glance at Sophie’s father for the first time since he’d started singing, Grant was surprised to find Will’s glare had faded. But it had been replaced by an unrecognizable expression. With uncertainty, Grant took a seat next to Ben.

“Looks like I got my entertainment locked down!” Alex grinned, reaching around Ben to thump Grant on the back.

Grant exhaled with relief. “Thank you, sir.”

“Well done,” the governor offered.

Blushing, Grant responded, “Thank you, sir. I wasn’t quite expecting the governor of Illinois to be watching my first performance.”

Tom chuckled. “Alex and I go way back, and I just had to be here.” He elbowed Alex in his side. “He’s all excited about his new bar.” Just then one of the bodyguards nodded at him. “Well, time for me to head out. I can’t let that campaign trail grow cold.”

They all stood as the governor shook hands with Alex and Will, nodding to Grant and Ben across the table before being ushered out by his protection detail.

Slowly Grant’s eyes widened. “Uh, Mr. Remington? You and the governor are friends? And you and Mr. Taylor are friends too?” Receiving a nod of confirmation, Grant then asked, “Did Sophie get me this job?”

Alex grinned. “I’ve always had a soft spot for Will’s daughter.”

“You didn’t know?” Will inquired.

“No, sir.” He felt quite touched by Sophie’s behind-the-scenes help, just when he needed it most. Thank goodness he hadn’t walked out of here earlier.

A waiter came by and set a highball in front of Grant.

“What’s this?”

“From the lady at the bar,” the waiter answered, nodding to a sultry black-haired woman staring from across the way.

Grant’s lips parted and his cheeks reddened. “Oh, um, thank you,” he stuttered, having no idea how to handle the situation. Ben started giggling.

A moment later a waitress sauntered over, placing a margarita in front of the singer. “From the woman at the table over there, three o’clock.” Grant’s blush deepened, and Ben’s laughter increased.

“Looks like you have some admirers out there, Grant,” Alex said, stifling his own chuckle.

When a third waiter arrived with yet another drink, Grant protested loudly, “Aw, come
on!
What am I supposed to do with all these?”

“You keep this up, you’ll single-handedly keep my bar in business,” Alex said warmly.

When Ben surreptitiously reached for one of the untouched drinks, Grant quickly slapped his hand away. “Back off, Al Fredo.”

Ben rolled his eyes, but smiled.

Will found himself angry at the women buying all these drinks for Grant, wantonly making passes at him. Didn’t they know Grant was dating his daughter? He’d dedicated a song to her! When that thought entered his mind, Will could scarcely believe it. He shook his head, trying to prevent Grant from worming his way into his good graces the way he’d done with Sophie.

“So, Ben,” Will said suddenly, “why were you at Angelo’s? Do you go there often?”

“He’s not allowed,” Grant answered for him. “It was a momentary lapse of judgment on his part, but he won’t be returning. Or he’ll be in even more trouble.”

Will continued looking at Ben. “You got in trouble?”

Ben shrugged. “I almost got arrested by that parole officer dude.”

“Jerry Stone was there? Why?”

Again, Grant answered. “I asked him to be there, sir. It’s a violation of my parole to go there, but I had to get Ben out. Officer Stone was great.”

Ben looked discomfited. “He, um, he told me you almost went back to prison for going to my birthday party there. Sorry.”

“That wasn’t your fault, Ben. That was my own stupidity. Sometimes I feel like a normal person. Sometimes I forget I’m on parole, that I’m not really free.”

When Grant sighed, Will studied him curiously. That was exactly like a comment Sophie had made the other day. No wonder his daughter felt so understood by this man—only they knew the pressure and shame that came from being on parole. And he recalled Sophie explaining that Logan Barberi had also been responsible for Grant going to prison by forcing him to commit a crime. At the time, Will had refused to believe it, but now he was starting to wonder.

“What do you think, Grant?” Alex asked. “You want to start the next set in ten minutes or so?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, I’m going to make the rounds,” Alex said, rising to leave.

Noting that Ben was still eyeing the drinks on the table, Grant said, “You should go home, Ben. Thanks for being here, but you’re probably too young for a place like this.”

Ben, who’d been sneaking glances at Will the whole night, finally blurted, “I have to say something before I go.”

“Okay…” Grant said slowly, completely unsure what to expect.

Biting his lip, Ben said, “Um, Mr. Taylor? When I was at Angelo’s, um, when they took you to get a drink…I heard them say some stuff. I thought you’d want to know.”

Although embarrassed that the boy had likely heard him pleading with those damn criminals, Will’s curiosity got the better of him, and he leaned in as Ben falteringly continued.

“Angelo said you thought he sent my dad to set up Sophie because you didn’t pay them.”

“That’s right.” Will nodded.

“But they didn’t,” Ben said. “I guess my dad just randomly went to see Sophie when he was ordered to get counseling. Angelo didn’t know anything about it.”

Will’s mouth dropped open and Grant nodded. He
knew
Logan couldn’t have done that to Sophie.