Crazy Love (12 page)

Unable to listen to another of her “did I or didn’t I use protection” tale, I allowed my mind to wander once more. Annie’s idea to pretend that we were a couple had merit. Meeting her seemed to set Violet off that night at Black Keys. Vi could definitely be the jealous type. One time during my drinking days, she’d physically dragged me out of the bar when some girl kissed me on the mouth for buying a round. I hadn’t dated anyone else since we’d split, so exaggerating my relationship with Annie, and acting like we were getting all steamy and serious just might get her attention. It certainly couldn’t hurt. She was a hair’s breadth away from marrying Stein and taking my daughter to a neighboring state, making me an “every other weekend” dad. What the hell did I have to lose by fighting fire with fire?

My nerves were frayed, and I wanted a drink in a way I hadn’t in a very long time. So when the chairman asked if anyone else wanted to share, I stood and walked purposefully to the front of the room. It was times like this, when I wanted to find the nearest bar and close the place down, that I needed to jump in with both feet. Or in my case, to just belly flop.

I cleared my throat as I gripped the podium with sweaty palms. “Hi. My name’s Trip, and I’m an alcoholic.”

In my silver-gray Hugo Boss suit, I felt like Wall Street’s answer to a Cherokee warrior painted for battle. I sat back in the leather chair enviously watching as families enjoyed the emerald garden of Forsythe Park. Meanwhile, I was forced to endure the cloying air conditioning of Armstrong House, home of the law firm which employed the attorneys who served as trustees for both of my trust funds. My twenty-fifth birthday loomed a mere month away, the mythical date when I was suddenly considered mature and capable of managing my own affairs. My lawyers and I had scheduled a series of meetings over the next couple of weeks to hammer out the details of my inheritance. I needed to dig deep and channel my inner counselor. I may not buy into all the “polite society” schlock, but I was not about to be swindled, nor would I squander my portfolio simply because I wasn’t in the mood to be indoors.

Hours later, I left Armstrong House confident in my team, but not in myself. They’d done a consummate job of managing my affairs, but they’d raised some tough questions about my future plans for the company and the family estate. All of it had to be sorted out. And soon. I needed a sounding board, needed to hash it all out, and the only person who could truly help in any real way was Trip.

Since he lived so close by, I left the Mercedes where it was and strolled across Forsythe Park. I desperately needed to stretch my legs after all of those hours behind a desk. As I drew close to his front door, I heard music drifting out the open windows of his studio, so I bypassed the front door all together.

“Come in!” I heard a female voice call, and felt all of the air escape my lungs. I was both excited and anxious when I realized Annabelle was on the other side of the door. I caught myself straightening my tie and rolled my eyes at my own behavior before entering his workroom. I was greeted by the sight of my shirtless, paint covered brother and his breathtaking subject.

She lived up to the role of muse in every possible way, from her upswept honey hair to her red painted toes that peeked out from underneath her silky floor-length gown. I felt blood rushing away from my brain, and I tried to ignore the unwelcome pressure in my pants when she turned her azure eyes in my direction. As she scrutinized me, I nearly came unglued. “The south” was indeed rising again. I’d taken off my suit coat halfway across Forsythe Park, and was grateful that I had it to drape in front of my traitorous member.

Trip grinned as he gave my attire an amused once-over and whistled a taunt at my expense. “Every girl’s crazy ‘bout a sharp dressed man.”

“Ha ha,” I replied sardonically as I sauntered over to appraise his progress. He’d chosen to position Annabelle squarely in the foreground, and though her image was nowhere near finished, I saw by the outline of her he’d constructed, that in the finished product, she would be nearly three-feet tall.

“What’s up?” Trip asked, returning his brush to the canvas. Annie stretched her neck and then resumed an uncomfortable-looking pose. She stared fixedly at a nearby mirror marked with tape, presumably to help her maintain her position and recreate it from day to day. She dropped the pose long enough to place an ear bud in one ear, and fiddle with her I-Pod. It was a relief to know she was preoccupied. It was bad enough to need help from Trip, let alone have my lack of self-sufficiency witnessed.

I proceeded to launch into the broad stokes of my meeting. Trip nodded thoughtfully and then asked some surprisingly appropriate questions. I rattled off the answers regarding projected profits to the best of my recollection. As he continued to create a startlingly accurate visage of Annabelle, we exchanged some general thoughts on different companies in which I would soon be a major shareholder. Trip paused in his task and handed Annabelle a bottle of water out of a cooler, then asked about the current values of certain shares. I mentioned I was thinking of selling my shares in a particularly unimpressive company in order to pay cash for my own place.

Trip stopped painting and turned to me, surprised.

“Finally leaving Cosmo in ‘the big house’ all by her lonesome? Have you picked a house yet?”

“No, but I found something near the waterfront that I’m considering. I have a couple of appointments with Marybeth next week.”

“Marybeth Dutton? She’s your realtor? Don’t forget to bring condoms.” Trip snickered and offered his hand which I mindlessly high fived. As I lowered my hand to its rightful position at my side, I had a moment to register surprise at how automatically I had fallen back into the rhythm of our pre-drinking-binge rapport. It was like I’d wanted so badly to go back to the way things used to be that my superego had lost the ability to catch up.

“Yeah…she seems a bit…deprived,” I snorted, and I noticed Annie glance our way. She saw me watching her and quickly stuck in her second ear bud, adjusting the settings on her I-Pod.

“Depraved, maybe…but I doubt that woman is deprived. She practically raped me when I toured this place,” Trip murmured in a hushed tone, as if to spare Annabelle the gory details of his past conquests. “Fortunately you can’t rape the willing, and well…you know me. But back to business. You really think selling that stock will pay for something on the river?”

“Oh yeah. Current market value on that amount of shares should get me roughly 1.3 million.” I shrugged, and Annie spit out her water, narrowly missing both her dress and the canvas. She openly gaped at us both. From the look on her face, I surmised that, though she had her ear buds in her ears, she must have turned the I-Pod off.

“You alright, Angel?”

“So let me get this straight: this
shitty
stock that you
need
to unload is worth 1.3 million dollars?”

Trip and I exchanged confused and somewhat petrified glances, and I nodded with no small amount of hesitation. She rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated and plopped rather ungracefully into a nearby chair, pulling her legs underneath her, Indian-style. That position seemed so unnatural in her formal gown and yet somehow her unpretentiousness endeared her to me. Her mouth, on the other hand…well, I guess looking at her mouth kind of endeared her to me as well. Too bad I couldn’t control it with a mute button.

“And I thought
I
had first-world problems!” Her acrid remark was the last thing I needed after the eternal and pretentious day I’d had.

“These are real issues I need to deal with, if you don’t mind. And Trip and I have some serious family business to discuss.”

She squinted at me, then shrugged. “All that money is wasted on you.”

“Is that so?” I folded my arms and glanced at Trip. “I can’t wait to hear this.”

Annie scoffed. “If I had a quarter of the money and time to burn that the two of you do, I could change the world.”

“Could you now? Just how would you do that?” I asked, unable to fight the urge to engage her, since her disdain was clearly aimed at me. As if preparing for a test of endurance, she took another long pull from her water bottle which allowed me a glorious view of her long golden brown throat. I traced her flesh downward with my eyes, briefly resting on the spot just above the plunging neckline. She blinked thoughtfully at me and then blew out a loud breath that disturbed the bangs draping her forehead.

“Didn’t you ever have a dream? Back when you were a kid, maybe? Something that inspired you? Can’t you think of any way to spread some of that money around and be a part of the community instead of looking down at it from a penthouse view?”

Again, her words cut me to the quick. Annabelle had an uncanny knack for seeing beneath my carefully crafted façade. However, my response to her today was different. Rather than feeling violated by this knack of hers, I felt…invigorated. Trip and I glanced at one another, and I saw that his face mirrored my epiphanic expression.

“I have to go.” She sounded apologetic as she turned to Trip. “I have a shift at Black Keys tonight. Some of us wage slaves have to keep society going for y’all. Thanks for the idea about recording my lectures. It’s a way better use of my time than listening to your freaky-ass music.”

Trip chuckled good-naturedly at her scathing comment. She grinned fondly at him and turned, presenting her zipper to him. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be my brother quite so ferociously in my life. He unzipped her, and I was blessed with the vision of a black tribal style rose on her gorgeous right shoulder blade. Feeling like a voyeur, I struggled to avert my eyes as she whipped around perched onto her tiptoes planting a loud kiss on his cheek.

“See ya on Sunday?” Trip asked her. To my delight, Annie fumbled to hold her gown across her chest. Wow, her body was preternaturally perfect.

“You know I have to be at the Marketplace. My crap isn’t going to sell itself. It’ll have to be Monday.”

Trip groaned.

“Paint something else,” she replied, bumping him with her hip playfully and heading toward the restroom. “Paint that realtor of yours.”

A sly smile spread across Trip’s face, and he glanced at me. I couldn’t help but grin in return and shake my head.

“You filthy little eavesdropper,” Trip called after her with a mix of admiration and amusement.

“Said the skanky man-whore,” she replied in a sing-song tone over her perfect tattooed shoulder.

“Mmmm mmm. That girl’s the real deal.” Trip shook his head as we both admired the view. I thought I noticed a note of regret in his voice, but when I turned his way, he’d ditched his painting gear and was wiping his hands off.

“So…I take it things are going well on
that
front.” I nodded to the door she’d just exited. I didn’t want details on the Annie situation, but at the same time, I needed to hear his answer.

Trip wore a cautious smile and paused like he had a secret he very badly wanted to share. “We have an understanding.”

What the hell does that mean? Is she a booty call, a friend with benefits? A ball-gag wearing submissive? What the hell?

I had the overwhelming urge to choke him.

“I just wish she had more time, so we could get this painting finished. That girl is way over-scheduled.”

“You still have those rubbings of hers?”

“Yep,” Trip replied, cocking an eyebrow at me.

As he continued to dab his brush onto the canvas, I laid an idea on him. He seemed pleased at my plan to help Annabelle, thereby helping himself. We worked out the logistics, I made a phone call, and that was that.

Later, my brother tossed his supplies around carelessly, evidently done painting for the day. “So…I suppose you’re really here about the Mama and the mansion?”

I nodded and took Annabelle’s recently vacated chair, spinning it around backwards and taking a seat. “Yep. Sharing ownership is…awkward. And pointless as far as I’m concerned. Let me start out by saying that I don’t want it.”

“Neither do I.” He responded, turning down the music. His previously lively attitude vanished. He looked positively gloomy as he always did when we even skirted the subject of Daddy. I pressed on.

“We just need to settle it. I say we just sign it over to Cosmo and be done with it. Thoughts?”

I didn’t expect an argument. I expected the same distant disinterest he usually displayed when it came to the family business. He’d never had any intention of actively participating in Beaumont affairs, even before Daddy’s death. To my astonishment, I watched a dizzying array of emotions battle their way through my brother’s features. This went on longer than I was comfortable with, and I felt my stomach sinking slowly toward my knees. He shook his head slowly as if trying to clear it and actually slapped himself on the temple at one point.

Well, this is a whole new flavor of crazy. What fresh hell have I stumbled upon now?

“Trip?” I asked slowly, my voice surprisingly solid considering how much he was creeping me out.

His eyes shot to mine as if I’d snapped my fingers and broken his trance.