Everything (39 page)

“What do you mean? You know I hate surprises,” I warned.

“I know, but I also know that you’ll
love
this one,” she promised.

“Aria,” I whined. Whined!

“What are you, nine again? I’m not telling.”

“Shut up,” I grumbled, shoving down in my seat. Her mind was set, and once it was set, there was no changing it.
 

She laughed at my sour face and turned her iPod back up to some song about never ever getting back together, then she looked pointedly at me while singing. “You’re not subtle at
all
.”

“I know, right?” I said as she bobbed her head to the chorus. I tuned her out and closed my eyes the rest of the way there.

When we got to the law office of Bartholomew Jackson, it was in a huge silver-and-gold office building. The office was located on the fifteenth floor. Aria and I felt underdressed just being in the elevator.

Once we got out, there was a reception desk directly in front of us, so a visitor had no choice but to stop there.

“May I help you?” the sharply dressed woman behind the desk eyed us like we were lost, which we could very well have been.

“We have an appointment with Bartholomew Jackson,” I said, hoping I sounded as confident as she looked.

“Name?” She sounded bored with us already.

“Dacey Harper and Aria Shaw.”

She typed on her keyboard and looked at her screen, then looked up at us.

“Have a seat. Someone will be with you shortly.” She gestured behind her to a small waiting area with plush chairs and...an indoor waterfall? Swanky.

Aria eyed me and whispered, “Someone needs a fruit basket.”

“Yeah, up her ass,” I whispered back and sank in one of the plush chairs next to the indoor waterfall.

I had barely gotten comfortable when another woman came out a set of wooden double doors to our right and greeted us.

“Hello, Miss Harper, Miss Shaw. Mr. Jackson will see you now.” She turned and gestured for us to follow her.

We passed through what looked like another small waiting area and a reception desk to an open door of a large office that had a portly man sitting behind a huge desk.

He stood up when we entered the room. “Thank you, Julia. I’ll take it from here.” He gestured for her to close the door. “Hello, I’m Bartholomew Jackson. You must be Dacey Harper. I believe we spoke on the phone?” He extended his hand to me, and I took it.

“Yes, and this is my sister, Aria Shaw.”
 

He shook her hand as well. “Please have a seat.” He gestured to a round table behind him with four chairs.

We sat, and he offered us some water or coffee, which we both declined.

“Well, let’s get down to business, shall we? No sense in keeping you waiting.” He went to his desk and pulled out what looked like a contract but I knew was my parents’ last will and testament, and began to recite.

Ten minutes and a headache later, he was done.

“So you’re saying we have the shop but don’t?” I asked, thoroughly confused.

“No, your father’s shop was left to both you and your sister. However, your father entered into a partnership right before the accident because the business was struggling. He took out a loan. Either the loan has to be paid back in full with interest, or the partnership stays in effect until the terms of the agreement.”

“Well, how much was the loan?” Aria asked.

“Ten thousand, including interest.”

Shit.

“Shit, Dad,” Aria whispered.

“And how long is the agreement?” I asked, because there was no way we could pay off that amount of money.

“Three years. Your father thought he could bring in three grand per month to pay it off in time. But if the shop doesn’t, then that extends the time frame of the agreement,” he added gravely.

“Well, who is this partnership with? Is it someone in town or out of?” If it was someone in town, maybe they had a change of heart considering the recent events. Maybe I could talk to them. I hadn’t even been to my father’s shop since the accident. Bob, his right-hand man and assistant manager, had been handling everything for us and told us not to worry about a thing, and we hadn’t. I doubt he even knew about this partnership. I would have to call him when I got back.
 

Aria nudged me, and I glanced at her. She was white-knuckling the arm of the chair.
 

Clearly, I had missed something. “I’m sorry, what?”

“The partner—his name is Mick Holmes,” Mr. Jackson repeated, looking down at his papers.

It seemed as though Aria had to fight to keep her emotions at bay at hearing his name again, but I lost my fight.

“What the fuck?” I jumped up from my chair. “There must be some kind of mistake! My dad hated Mick, and there is no way in
hell
that he would have ever gone to him for money.
Ever
.”

Mr. Jackson must have been used to young girls going into a fit of rage in his office because my outburst didn’t bother him in the least as he checked his paperwork again and then slid a contract over for me to look at.

I snatched it up, determined to find something wrong so that I could say, “Ha! See, it’s a lie,” but there it was in black and fucking white. Mitch Holmes and Wally Harper entered into an agreement on,
wait a minute...
The date on the agreement was the day of the dinner. This must have been why Mick was in town, and they had acted as if nothing had changed. I wanted to rip this up, but I knew that wouldn’t make any difference since I was sure that sleazeball had a copy.

“Did my mother know about this?” I asked, giving it back to him as if it were a disgusting piece of trash, which it was.

“No, your father specifically asked me not to mention it to her when he asked me to draw up the papers. He wanted to make sure they were done by someone he trusted, as he didn’t trust your uncle.”

“He’s not my uncle,” I shot at him.

He continued as if he hadn’t heard me. “He returned the next day with Mr. Holmes, and they both signed in front of me, and he wrote him a check, and that was that. Your mother was never aware.”

Aria was still white-knuckling the arm of the chair. I would have to get a crowbar to pry her hand loose if she didn’t let go soon, so I went over to her and knelt down in front of her.

“Hey, A, look at me. This is going to be okay.” I guided her face to mine with my hands until she was looking me in the eyes.

“How is this going to be okay? He has us by the balls now, Dac,” she said, eerily calm.

Shit, fire was back.

“I don’t know. It just has to be. We’ve been through too much for it not to be.” I turned to Mr. Jackson, who still hadn’t let any of this faze him. “So because my dad left my sister and me the shop, but he also entered this partnership with Mick, we are now part owners of the shop, with Mick?” I clarified for my sake because it was all so confusing.

“That is correct. Your parents also left you girls the house and what was in their checking and savings accounts. Plus you are entitled to your mother’s 401(k) from her work.”

“Does it equal ten thousand dollars?” I asked, hopefully.

“I’m afraid not.”

“If there is nothing else, I’d like to get my sister home. This news about her uncle was a shock to us, as I’m sure you can tell.” I peeled Aria’s fingers from the arm of the chair and got her to stand.

“Girls, there is one more thing you should know. There is a clause in the agreement. If you come up with the money before the three years is up, then the shop is yours and the agreement is terminated, but if not, then Mick takes full control and he owns it, until he dies, at which point ownership returns back to you and your sister.”

“What!” we exclaimed in unison.

“Mick made a few amendments to the agreement before agreeing to sign, and your father, not wanting to lose his business, agreed. He didn’t think he wouldn’t be around to pay it back, you see.” He actually looked remorseful when he said that last part.

Mick’s audacity knew no bounds. That’s why he wanted to see if there was a will—he wanted to know if the shop was his free and clear or if he had to contend with us, that fucking bastard.

This was one of those times when I hated that Aria and I thought so much alike, because she came to the same conclusion and was about to explode next to me. I hurried and thanked Mr. Jackson, and he said there were things we had to sign but he would fax them over, seeing the look on my face. I barely made it to the car before Aria let out her fire, so to speak.

“That mutherfucker! I can’t believe him, and I
know
he’s going to try and sell Daddy’s shop if we don’t come up with the money. Where are we going to get that kind of money, Dacey?” She was screaming as I shoved her in the passenger seat and took her keys from her. There was no way she was driving us home.

I sent a quick text to JP telling him I was sorry but I couldn’t meet him for lunch and that I would explain later. I didn’t even read his reply text. I just put my phone in my purse and got in the car.

“We have to kill him,” Aria said as soon as I got in.

“
What?
” I asked, pulling the car out into traffic.

“We have to kill him. It’s the only logical thing to do. We don’t have the money, and we can’t let him sell Daddy’s shop, which was Dad’s
life
, Dac. We have to do something, and that fucker is just going to sell it for money or turn it into Shaddy Groves first titty bar or something gross. We have to do something.” Her voice began to shake. I knew she was calming down and giving way to the tears.

“I know, A, but killing him is not actually the logical thing to do—you know that, right?” I asked soothingly. Even though I was kinda leaning toward it. Kinda.

“No, but yes. I know.”

“We will figure something out.” I reached over and patted her knee as she stared, crying freely now.

Something
had
to start going our way soon. It just had to.

Chapter 19

Aria had stopped crying by the time we had gotten home to find Riley waiting on the steps.

“Why I am not surprised to find him here?” I muttered, putting the car in park.

“I need comforting,” she sniffled.

“I’m not saying you don’t. Just be comforted on the couch—wait, that came out wrong. You know what I mean,” I warned.

“I know, Dacey. God, you act like I’m some horny teenager with a hot boyfriend. Oh, wait.” She smiled for first time since leaving Orlando.
 

I was glad Riley could make her forget about her troubles. He was her island.

“Teenager, yes. Hot boyfriend?” I made a gagging sound.

We got out of the car and started walking up the driveway to meet him.

“Maybe to you, but to me he’s a total...”

I put my hand over my ears to prevent them from bleeding and walked past him as he was staring at her in the girlfriend way and not the “that’s one of best friends’ sisters” way.

“Ugh, great. Now I’m going to have wash my eyes out,” I moaned. I hurried inside before I heard smacking, which would have traumatized me back into the cave for another four days for an entirely different reason.
 

Making sure to leave the door open, I went straight to my bedroom and collapsed on the bed, having had an emotionally draining morning. What would possess Dad to borrow money from Mick? It was the one thing we agreed on—we hated Mick. And the night he was here, he barely acknowledged him and did everything to be away from him as fast as he could. After what he did to Mom, how could he do business with him?

“What were you thinking, Wally?” I asked out loud.

I heard my phone go off in my purse, which I had dropped by the bedroom door, and wondered if Wally was calling me to tell me. Getting up, I went over to see that it wasn’t heaven calling but JP.

“Hello?” I said, plopping back down on my stomach.

“Hey, is everything okay?” His voice sounded worried.

“Yeah, why?” I frowned, and then remembered the text I sent him earlier.

“Word of advice, don’t send a frantic-sounding text to a cop saying, ‘Can’t meet something came up, talk to you later,’ then don’t respond when said cop texts you back.”

“How can a text ‘sound’ frantic?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“Okay, you got me, but really, is everything okay?” His voice grew concerned again. He read into my prolonged silence. “Uh-oh, the reading of the will was that bad, huh? Don’t tell me you found out you had an illegitimate half-brother no one knew about?”

“I wish it was that.
That
I could deal with. This...I don’t know what to do about this.”

Before I could stop myself, the tears welled up in my eyes and were rolling down my cheeks and I couldn’t stop them.

“Dacey, please...Don’t cry, talk to me,” he said painfully.

I wiped at my face and sniffled noisily into the phone. I thought I heard him chuckle, but I ignored it. “It’s all just too much to explain. I don’t even know where to begin.” And thinking about what a cluster fuck it was made me cry more.

“How about we talk about it over pizza then, tonight? Just please, please, stop crying,” he begged.

“As long as you’re buying,” I sniffled. Mick has made sure we would be eating toast until he died.

“I’ll see you at seven. Please don’t cry anymore. Whatever it is, I’m sure there is a solution for it. I’ll help you,” he said, then he hung up.

I decided to text Tina because if we did have to resort to offing Mick, she would want in.

Read the Will 2day

Show me da $!!

Dad made a deal w/the devil

???

He borrowed $ from MTD

MTD as in MICK-THE-DICK?

U know another 1?

Holy shit

If we come up w/the $ we can have the shop back, if not its Mick’s

How much $?

10 Thou

Dollars?!

No clams!

Dios Mio!

Mick has us by the balls Tina

What r u going 2 do?

A wants 2 kill him